


A Love That's So Demanding

by OwenToDawn



Series: Awake And Unafraid [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Kneeling, Method of Loci, Multi, Neji is still dead, Painplay, Platonic BDSM, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26446537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwenToDawn/pseuds/OwenToDawn
Summary: To cope with his own grief, Shikamaru's become quite skilled at compartmentalizing. It could work, if he weren't a spy master with the fate of those under his care resting on his shoulders.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Nara Shikamaru, Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Sasuke, Hyuuga Neji/Nara Shikamaru
Series: Awake And Unafraid [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922470
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	A Love That's So Demanding

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. This fic is an absolute labor of love but a few notes before you read
> 
> The Canon Divergence is basically bump everyone's ages up by 2-ish years. So Shikamaru and Neji were like 19-20 during the war. Neji is still dead. The relationship is tagged because much of this fic hinges on Shikamaru's feelings about their past relationship and there's flashbacks. However, how Neji died has been changed. 
> 
> This fic is also pre-slash. Originally this was supposed to be a small one shot but it evolved and now there's going to be a Kakashi/Shikamaru fic that will be a sequel. One day when I feel like I can mentally write it. There might also be an Aoba-centric fic dealing with the events of this one.
> 
> Comments are loved. Title from Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance

_Thud, thud, thud_

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

Shikamaru’s feet pound against hard dirt as he jogs and he’s not sure what’s louder, the footfalls or his heartbeat. A heartbeat. Persistent. Alive – stubbornly so.

Smart, stubborn, lazy, all adjectives that made up everything he was and yet he didn’t feel like any of them fit anymore at all. Lazy men didn’t go for midnight jogs. Stubborn men didn’t move through life in a daze, letting people push and pull them every which way. Smart men didn’t lose their mentors, their father, their friends, their-

Breath escapes him in harsh gasps, born from panic or something like it. He’s incredibly in shape these days so a light jog isn’t enough to make him break a sweat. The jogs are supposed to take the place of thinking. They’re supposed to stop this from happening. He collapses back with a thud in the dew-wet grass and drops his head between his knees, trying to breathe through it like he was taught. It works just like it always does. Once his vision clears, he looks up.

He’s at the training grounds near the memorial stone, and even more surprisingly, so is the Sixth Hokage. He hadn’t realized he’d jogged this far. He also hadn’t realized Kakashi also wanted to be out at 3:00 AM. A quick scan alerts him to the usual three ANBU guards that follow him after the workday ends. For a moment, he debates continuing on. He helped Kakashi pick his guard and none of them are shinobi he’d feel afraid of having seen him have a panic attack. Or converse with the Hokage before dawn.

So he coughs to announce his presence more politely than his earlier interruption. Kakashi turns towards him and offers a nod. He’s dressed like a civilian, simple jeans and boots paired with a dark sweater that covers his face in its usual mask. Shikamaru takes the nod as permission to come closer so he does. For a moment, they stand side by side and stare at the memorial.

“Lovely night for existential contemplation,” Kakashi says, voice a low drawl.

"Yeah, let’s call it that,” Shikamaru says. He reaches into his jacket for his smokes and lighter and lights up. He still hates the taste, but the nicotine hit is good. “You come here often?”

"Ah, Shikamaru, if you’re going to chat me up, I prefer somewhere classier than the memorial for our deceased comrades,” Kakashi says, the teasing words coming out flat and disinterested.

“I’m an opportunist, what can I say?” Shikamaru exhales the smoke. “But seriously. It’s a bit late, isn’t it?”

“Well I can’t really come during the day without attracting unnecessary attention,” Kakashi says.

"Why come at all?”

Kakashi looks at him. “Shikamaru, you and I are too alike for you to not know the answer to that question.”

Guilt. Even after vengeance, it sits like lead in his gut.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-_

_"_ You lost a lot, didn’t you?” Kakashi asks, voice soft.

Shikamaru inhales another long drag and drops his head to blow the smoke up towards the stars. “That’s just life.” The nonchalance in his tone cuts off in his tightening throat but Kakashi doesn’t point out the crack in his voice.

“That doesn’t make the guilt for surviving any easier, does it?”

Shikamaru can’t tell for sure from the way Kakashi speaks, but it sounds like the words aren’t even meant for him. He stays quiet and takes another drag. Silence stretches between them. Kakashi lets out a sigh and takes his hands out of his pocket.

“Have you spoken to Hinata? The Hyuugas?” Kakashi asks.

It takes everything in him not to choke on the smoke in his lungs. The panic that had retreated just minutes ago rushes back up through his chest, clamping every muscle and blood vessel tight like it’ll stop the thoughts and memories from reaching his mind. He drops his cigarette and crushes its light beneath his boot.

“Have a good night, Lord Hokage,” he says.

He vanishes before Kakashi can say another word.

-.-

At the edge of the Nara forest in the sprawling but mostly empty compound, Shikamaru kneels in the dirt, trowel in hand. Beside him sit containers full of flowers Ino had bred and selected specifically for this spot. After the war, Ino, Choji, and he had planted an oak tree sapling for Asuma. Now, it had matured enough that Ino deemed it safe to put down flowers. There was a note somewhere shoved in his father’s journal with a list of the flowers provided and their meanings, but Shikamaru hadn’t looked too closely. It will look nice either way. Ino had picked colors and flower types that looked so good together it wouldn’t look bad even if he fucked it up.

The work is methodical. The Naras were famous for their laziness, sure, but like their intelligence, they also carried a knack for gardening. Not flowers or poisons like the Yamanakas, but herbs and other plants known for their medicinal powers. At the end of the day, a plant was a plant. Shikamaru knows how to plant and maintain a garden. It’s also the only time his mother doesn’t dare intrude.

Next to Asuma’s tree, about fifteen away, is one Shikamaru planted for his father. It’s an ash tree – common and plain but vital to their ecosystem. He thinks his father would appreciate the thought even if others thought such a simple tree was a slight. The plants that surround it are his father’s favorites – tarragon, ivy, sage, and basil. No mint though, because even though his father may have loved it, the damn thing spreads like weeds.

And then, beyond that, is a cleared bit of land, empty and waiting.

By the time he’s finished planting all the flowers, he’s drenched in sweat and he can feel the start of a sunburn on the back of his neck. He feels satisfied though. Ino’s choices are stunning. Deep red roses that match Kurenai’s eyes ring the base, then a mixture of snapdragon for Ino, gladiolus for Choji, and purple hyacinth for Shikamaru. The only flower he was uncertain of were the navy-blue pansies with a silver center, flowers that Ino had said had taken ages for her to breed to the proper color. When he’d asked who they were for, she’d just shrugged.

" _It’s a special request from someone who loves Asuma very much,”_ she’d said.

Shikamaru isn’t sure who would care so much to have flowers planted on land they would never set foot on, but he trusts Ino’s judgement and so now, they ring the outside.

His eyes slide away, first to his father’s tree and then to the cleared space beyond.

“Shikamaru! An important guest is here to see you!”

His mother’s voice carries too well through the air. He groans and picks up the debris.

"Duty calls, Asuma. Enjoy the flowers,” he says, voice soft.

His mother greets him at the back door that leads to the mudroom. He kicks his shoes off as she takes the now empty flower containers from him and dumps them in the big trash bin near the door.

“Who is it?” he asks.

“Lady Hinata,” his mother says.

The peaceful feeling that had filled him up during his work shatters and the rushing of his own blood roars through his ears. His expression remains bored.

“I see.”

“Get changed! I have tea steeping for the both of you. She’s in your study,” she says.

“Official business then.”

The words flow out of him even as his own mind catches on the phrase ‘ _your study’_ , turning the words over and over again. He doesn’t remember walking to his room or changing but when he blinks, he finds himself in his jounin clothes with his hand on the door handle to _his_ office. It keeps happening. Missing time throughout his day with scattered evidence of his activities but with no memory to corroborate the events.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door. Hinata sits with perfect posture in the simple wood chair on one side of the desk. He steps around her and takes a seat on the other side and it takes everything in him not to react when he sees the urn cradled in her lap between her hands.

It’s beautiful – of course it is. It’s a deep gray stone with delicate and abstract designs painted in lilac and a robin’s egg blue.

**_“Hinata promised she’d do as I asked, even if the elders protest. If I die in this war, I refuse to be buried on Hyuuga land.”_ **

The words echo in his head, a conversation from a year and a half ago. He remembers soft hair trailing through his fingertips because while he’d never been clingy, he never could control the impulse to touch around N-

“He’d want you to have it,” Hinata says, voice jolting him from his memories. 

“I-“

"You were more of his family than we ever were,” Hinata says with a firmer tone as she meets his eyes. “He’d prefer to be here. With you.”

“Why now?” Shikamaru asks. 

“I’m the head of the clan now,” she says. “I didn’t have the power to do the right thing until now. I used most my social power just to make sure he was cremated as he wished.”

“What a mess,” Shikamaru says. 

“Where…” Hinata looks down, shoulders hunching as her voice wavers.

He realizes then that he’s not the only one struggling with the unfairness of the situation. Not for the first time, he finds himself setting his own emotions aside. He gets up and walks around the desk, leaning back against it with an air of nonchalance that isn’t remotely genuine.

“I’ll find a good space,” Shikamaru says. “Thank you, Hinata. You served his memory well and I’m sure he’d be pleased with all the work you’ve done.”

Hinata takes a deep breath before holding the urn out to him. He takes it and masks the way the simple act of holding it makes him want to scream and claw his skin off. With a rare gentleness, he sets it on his desk.

“Was he happy?” Hinata asks. “With you?”

The question, like everything else since she arrived, leaves him feeling off kilter. Unmoored.

**_“Being with you feels like floating sometimes.”_ **

**_“Huh?”_ **

**_"It’s like you see-“_ **

“Shikamaru?”

“Yes. I think he was,” Shikamaru says, his voice sounding faraway and distant even as it takes up all the space in his head.

Hinata smiles. They talk. His mother brings tea.

Shikamaru doesn’t remember a damn word.

-.-

"If that’s all, we can conclude-“

"Wait,” Shikamaru says, interrupting the Hokage as he reopens a mission report from the month before, confirming his suspicions. “It’s Sparrow.”

“We’ve been over this,” Ibiki says. “It isn’t odd for someone in deep cover to miss the occasional check in.”

"I think he’s been compromised,” Shikamaru says. “Genma, do you have the records for two months ago?”

Across the intel meeting room table, Genma frowns but nods, digging through the records and handing them over. Shikamaru unrolls it and confirms what he suspected.

“Every third week of at least the six months, he misses his check in. He’s either compromised or trying to tell us something without saying it or writing it,” Shikamaru says.

“That’s a stretch,” Anko says.

"No, Sparrow’s smart and he knows Shikamaru would notice something this consistent,” Genma says. “He could be compromised and trying to get our attention because he’s been restricted in some way. He wouldn’t betray us in a way he knew he’d get caught.”

"Then let’s send someone to see where our wayward Sparrow is going,” the Hokage says. “Any suggestions?”

"Send me,” Shikamaru says. “He obviously was trying to get my attention.”

"It’d set off alarm bells for anyone watching if we send a full team,” Ibiki says.

“I can go alone,” Shikamaru says.

"Where is Sparrow based again?” the Hokage asks.

“The Orange Islands. They’re the biggest group of islands on the trade route we have with the Land of Lightning,” Ibiki says.

“Arrange for a meeting with the King of the islands under the guise of goodwill for their assistance with food supplies during the war. A visit from the Hokage will certainly cause enough commotion for the village shadow to investigate,” the Hokage says. “Besides, the daimyos have been wanting me to make more appearances.”

“Is that wise in a city we’re conducting a deep cover operation in?” Anko asks.

"The Orange Islands are still part of our territory. If they have a problem with us investigating human trafficking, they can take it up with the elders or the daimyos. Genma, please notify the appropriate parties. If that is all everyone is dismissed. Shikamaru, I’d like to speak with you in my office.”

Shikamaru knows he’s not in trouble, but it’s hard not to feel like he’s getting dragged to the academy headmaster’s office when he’s the youngest by a decade on the Intelligence Committee. He nods his understanding and leaves with the others. He ducks out a side door once he gets out of the basement, patting his jacket down for his smokes. Lighting one up and putting his supplies away takes longer than usual. His hands keep trembling. At the rate he’s going, he’ll be so addicted he’ll start going through a pack a day.

"Ah, Shikamaru. Fancy meeting you here,” Kakashi says as he opens the door. He’s in his jounin outfit, Hokage robes doubtless tossed in some corner until someone makes him put them back on.

“Lord Hokage,” Shikamaru says, jamming his hands in his pockets so the shaking won’t show. He just wants a moment of peace. “Couldn’t wait five minutes to see me?” His cigarette bobs as he speaks.

“What can I say? Your presence is a ray of sunshine in my otherwise dull day.”

Shikamaru snorts and spits the cigarette out before crushing it under foot. A waste sure, but better than showing his hands when he has no important meeting to distract from the shaking. It hasn’t stopped since Hinata’s visit a week ago.

“A bit of a waste, isn’t it? Asuma said those get expensive,” Kakashi says, looking at him with an eye that can see too much.

“I’m trying to flex how much money I have through wasteful spending to impress you,” Shikamaru says, deadpan. “Is it working?”

"My knees are weak and my stomach is a flutter with butterflies,” Kakashi says, matching his tone.

“You’re an idiot,” Shikamaru says, but he can’t deny the way the banter tugs his lips into a smile. “With all due respect, Lord Hokage.”

“Most people are in comparison to you so I suppose I can accept that,” Kakashi says.

“I’m not that smart,” Shikamaru says, and just like that the joking air vanishes.

Kakashi leans against the door and looks out at the forest. “You’re not the type to fish for compliments.”

“I’m not asking for any,” Shikamaru says.

“I know,” Kakashi says. “That’s what worries me.”

Anger grabs him by the throat, choking him as something in his chest rages because he didn’t ask anyone for their opinion or their pity or their comfort. He coughs. “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Is that why your hands are shaking?”

“Is that why you wanted to see me, Lord Hokage?” He doesn’t raise his voice – he sounds defeated even to his own ears.

“I’ve never been any good on convincing people I care about to stop shouldering their burdens alone,” Kakashi says. He still doesn’t look at Shikamaru. “But I’m trying anyways.”

Shikamaru’s brain latches onto the words, trying to understand them. “I’m your spy master. Why does that require that you care?”

"We fought the Akatsuki together. And Pein. And a whole war. Do you truly think I _wouldn’t_ care about you after everything we’ve been through together?”

**_“Do you know the hardest part about this job, Shikamaru?”_ **

Shikamaru clenches his hands, nails biting into his palms so the pain chases away his father’s voice. “Is there anything else you need, Lord Hokage?”

Kakashi sighs. “No, that’s all.”

-.-

The next few days pass in a blur as preparations are made for the Hokage’s impromptu travel. Shikamaru pours over every report from Sparrow from the last year since he was first sent, converting the important points into the Nara shorthand that only the Nara Clan Head and heir knew. The fact that he still hasn’t named an heir is a fact he tucks away to examine later. He ties Ino’s spare bandana around Asuma’s oak tree so the deer don’t maul her when she checks on the flowers. They’ll be gone at least a month after all.

The whole affair has him sick to his stomach. Even with his careful analysis, he can’t quite figure out what changed in Sparrow’s, or rather Aoba’s, life in the last six months. The reports are short and concise. The very nature of deep cover is what makes it so hard. Full immersion into a life that isn’t yours, the ultimate mask, a total erasure of everything that made you who you were. Could it-

“Shikamaru, are you going to get in?” Genma asks.

Shikamaru blinks himself back into awareness. “Huh?”

Genma gestures at the horse drawn carriage the Hokage travels in.

“I can walk,” he says.

“You’re part of the official contingent so no, actually, you can’t,” Genma says.

Shikamaru squints at him, but he still doesn’t know enough about the finer points of political etiquette to argue against it. “Troublesome…”

He yanks the door of the carriage and he steps inside, tossing his pack to the far corner of one of the two benches. A table is in the center. Kakashi is already sitting on the other side with his nose buried in his trademark book, dressed like a civilian, but with his robes laying beside him.

"Did you plan this?” Shikamaru asks, shutting the door behind him.

“No actually. You made your feelings clear,” Kakashi says. “Shizune insisted when organizing, as did Raven.”

Raven. Kakashi’s ANBU head of security. Or make importantly, Sasuke Uchiha. At least Shikamaru could trust him to act out of genuine logistics instead of being swayed into doing what Kakashi wanted. But still…

“I don’t see why I have to be in here for protection,” Shikamaru says.

Kakashi sets the book down, hands resting on top of it as he looks at Shikamaru. He wonders if Kakashi wears his eyepatch out of habit. There’s no Sharingan to hide, not anymore, but it remains covered.

“Naruto and Sasuke are two of our village’s greatest assets no matter how controversial they may be. You are as well. So was your father. It’s not just your strategic abilities but the amount of knowledge you have on our special forces. I would appreciate it if you would stop selling yourself short in front of me. Have I made myself clear?”

“Is that as a friend or the Lord Hokage?” Shikamaru asks with a drawl that covers the frustration in his chest.

“Whichever one makes you listen.”

Shikamaru wants to lash out. It’s childish, he knows that, but for once, he’d like to be able to _be_ upset. Instead, he meets Kakashi’s gaze and nods.

“Good,” Kakashi says.

The word hits him like a blow to the stomach, humiliation and shame at his own petulance burning his insides and creeping up to his face in the form of a blush. It hits him all at once. What the fuck is he doing here? Twenty years old with a war under his belt and the entire ANBU network of a nation at his fingertips. But how could they trust him? Was it like Aoba? Not the best but good enough given how many died?

“Your hands have stopped shaking,” Kakashi says.

Shikamaru stares down at the journal with his notes. He doesn’t recall pulling it out during his spiraling mess of thoughts, but that’s not shocking. He swallows and sets the journal down before holding his hands up, palms facing Kakashi as another wave of shame swamps him. The inky black of his shadows stretches from under his sleeves to cover the bottom of his hand, wrist to fingertip.

"Ah,” Kakashi says.

“It’s the only way to make it stop.”

“Uses up a lot of chakra, doesn’t it?” Kakashi asks, tone neutral.

“Better than people asking questions I don’t have the answers to,” Shikamaru says with a shrug.

“Has a medic looked at it?”

“Sakura did,” Shikamaru says with a nod. “Physically I’m fine.”

“Stress is funny that way. Well. No need to hide it on my account,” Kakashi says, turning back to his book. “No sense in wasting chakra when it’s just us considering I’m the last one to judge given well…who wears an eyepatch with a perfectly good eye?”

Shikamaru swallows and relaxes, letting his shadows retreat. The tremors start a heartbeat later. “Why do you still wear it?”

Kakashi’s eye crinkles at the corner, a telltale sign of his smile. “It’s a little foolish. What if explaining it ruins my attractive and mysterious aura?”

It’s a relief to settle back into familiar banter.

“Well, we can’t have that,” he says.

Kakashi tilts his head to the side, book closing as he sets it aside again. “Do you really want to know?”

“If you don’t mind,” Shikamaru says, his curiosity pushing the anxiety-tinged shame. He wonders if Kakashi orchestrated the conversation like this on purpose. He wouldn’t put it past him.

“I’ve spent over a decade doing most of my fighting and daily life with one eye. With the Sharingan, once I knew how to use it, it became an advantage but now with two normal eyes?” Kakashi waves a dismissive hand. “I try to fight with two normal eyes and fall on my face.”

Shikamaru stares at him. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” Kakashi says. “It’s a little funny though.”

“But…you’re the Hokage,” Shikamaru says. “Isn’t that…”

"I _did_ say deadly,” Kakashi says. “But don’t worry. Guy is helping retrain me.”

“How bad are you?” Shikamaru asks, morbidly fascinated at the idea of _the_ Kakashi being clumsier than a genin.

“I have to keep _some_ of my pride,” Kakashi says as the carriage lurches forward. He glances down. “Your hands have stopped shaking.”

Shikamaru looks down and realizes Kakashi’s right. When he looks back up, Kakashi has already turned back to his book.

-.-

Shikamaru buries his mind in his notes, turning over every bit of Aoba’s reports. It keeps his mind busy and keeps him feeling productive. Six hours in, he feels like he’s hit a brick wall. He groans as he stretches out on the bench, palms pressed to his eyes.

"Something wrong?” Kakashi asks.

“What do you know about Aoba?”

“Don’t you have a borderline encyclopedic knowledge of everyone?” Kakashi asks.

“Their mission records and battle patterns and habits sure but I’m still working on personal lives. That’s trickier,” Shikamaru says. _That requires care_. “He’s around your age right?”

Kakashi hums. “Yes. He had a normal trajectory through genin and chunin. I was never considered a close friend, but we’ve run in the same social circles for the last decade. He and Tenzo are fairly close.”

“That’s all fine but nothing an enemy could exploit him with,” Shikamaru says.

“Hm…”

Shikamaru drops his hands to his sides. “Fuck, I’m dumb.”

“Hey,” Kakashi starts.

"Sorry, it’s not…did he lose anyone truly important during the war? A parent? A lover? Best friend?”

"Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you starting to think this is a betrayal?” Kakashi says.

“I know we said it’s unlikely, but I’ve been trying to account for every possibility. I want to be prepared when we get there.”

“Talk to Genma when we stop. He tends to know all the jounin gossip. What are your other current theories?” Kakashi asks.

It’s easier to talk to Kakashi when he doesn’t have to look him in the eye, but he sits up anyways and does so. “The most likely are seals like the ones Danzo used for ROOT members. We know they’re recruiting missing nin so the possibility is likely, especially considering their leader, Kinzo, has an almost cult like status among them. If he can’t speak or write out what’s happening, he’d need us to physically show up.”

“That’s the one you feel most confident about?” Kakashi asks.

Shikamaru nods. “But I should’ve considered the possibility of an actual betrayal more seriously. If that _is_ the case, bringing you along is probably just what they want. We need to be prepared for a trap, however unlikely.”

Kakashi hums and then sets his book aside in favor of folding his arms across his chest. “It can’t hurt to be cautious, but I agree that it doesn’t seem all that likely. Is there another possibility you have considered?”

“Just one worth mentioning. There’s always a chance of blackmail. I know ANBU are trained in such a way that this is unlikely, but Aoba _is_ new and frankly, he wears his heart on his sleeve more than anyone else in the same rank,” Shikamaru says. “I just don’t know enough about him to pinpoint any potential blackmail material.”

“What plans have you worked out for these scenarios?” Kakashi asks.

“Nothing too detailed,” Shikamaru says. “I don’t like going in with a rigid plan when there’s still too many variables. We’ll be arriving when he usually does make his check in appropriately, so we’ll have someone wait for him, but it’s hard to plan beyond that because I need to know _why_ he’s been missing check ins in the first place. Was it just to get our attention or is he going somewhere specifically?”

“All solid assessments. I wouldn’t do anything differently,” Kakashi says.

“You’re going to keep complimenting me when you know I won’t fight you on it, aren’t you?” Shikamaru asks.

“Oh, most definitely,” Kakashi says. He smiles under his mask. “Sometimes, I need the reminder that I’ve done well too. There’s no shame in it.”

Shikamaru knows what most people know about Kakashi. A matter of fact history laid out in news articles and mission reports of a genius child soldier who’d been robbed of every meaningful person in his life. It made him an excellent tool of war. Shikamaru would argue it makes him a great Hokage as well, even if they all know he’s a placeholder for Naruto, but knowing his history doesn’t mean he _knows_ Kakashi.

His words offer some insight. There’s the usual fear of all former and current ANBU members – the fear that they’ll never amount to anything other than a killer. Layered within just one sentence though, Kakashi has offered him an additional vulnerability. The fear of wasting the sacrifices others had made for him. It’s the same fear that burrowed into him when he’d failed to bring Sasuke back the first time. He’s never been able to get it out, not after Asuma, his father, his-

"You know, people aren’t puzzles you can solve.”

Kakashi’s voice jerks him out of his thoughts and he realizes with a bit of embarrassment that his fingers have curved into his trademark thinking position. He looks up and meets Kakashi’s gaze, feeling like a chastised kid all over again.

“Sorry,” he says, because he’s not sure what else he could say. 

“I don’t mind really,” Kakashi says. “But you might get further through talking instead of speculating.”

Shikamaru pulls his fingers apart, hating that they begin to tremble a moment later.

"Why don’t you take a nap? We have nothing but time,” Kakashi says.

This time, the gentleness of his tone doesn’t grate on his over sensitized nerves.

"Yeah. Good idea.”

-.-

The upside to being a part of the official contingent is he gets a hotel room like Kakashi Shizune, and Genma. Not only that, they all get their own rooms. It’s a nice luxury he won’t turn down. By the time he showers and settles in, it’s still early in the evening and he’s fairly certain his brain will melt out of his ears if he looks at his report notes again.

He _does_ have a mini-shogi set stashed in his pack though and as far as he’s aware, Kakashi has nothing to do. With nothing better to try, he grabs the set and heads down the hall. His first knock goes unanswered. So does the second. He’s waffling on whether or not to knock again or go find Genma when the lock clicks and the door slides open just enough for Kakashi to slip through.

“Hiding something?” Shikamaru asks, tone light.

“Yes,” Kakashi says with a finality that feels like a slap in the face. His eye flicks down to the shogi board before looking back up again. “But in fairness, it’s not for me to talk about.” He leans back against the door, looking at Shikamaru with a considering look. “How serious were you when you said you wanted to know the personal lives of ANBU members?”

Shikamaru’s eyes narrow. “If this is a threesome proposition, you should know I prefer some one on one time first.”

"Sweet of you, but no, that’s not what this is. Wait here.”

So, he does and Kakashi ducks back into his room and at this point he’s just curious to see where it’ll lead. He can hear muffled speaking but nothing specific. A moment later, Kakashi cracks the door open.

"A few rules. What you see stays between us, if you’re uncomfortable, you leave right away, and you say nothing that could be construed as an insult or an attempt to shame,” Kakashi says. “Is that clear?”

Shikamaru wants to crack another joke if only to cut the tension, but he’s tired of being childish in front of Kakashi so he nods instead. “Understood.”

Kakashi eases the door open and Shikamaru steps fully inside. There, beside the nightstand, kneels the man who nearly destroyed the world, bare chest and his single arm bound up in a deep red rope with a matching blindfold covering his eyes. His posture is perfect. He’s almost like a statue, the flickering light from the fireplace on the other end of the room making the shadows play across his skin and disguise the subtle shift of his breathing.

He’s beautiful.

"On hard days, Sasuke likes to be contained. He needs the reminder,” Kakashi says, walking around Shikamaru and heading towards the small table and chairs by the fireplace. “But he prefers to exist and be ignored like nothing more than a decoration. If you don’t mind, I’d like that game of shogi. We’ve never played each other.”

“Right.” It’s hard to drag his eyes away but he does. “Can I ask more questions?”

"If you obey the rules,” Kakashi says as he takes a seat.

Shikamaru joins him, opening the small set and spilling the pieces out so he can begin setting it up as he sits. “So, it’s not sexual?”

Kakashi shakes his head. “No, not for either of us. He needed for this to exist outside his romantic relationship with Naruto, and I have a lot of experience in this sort of thing, so I offered.”

Shikamaru leans back in the chair and gestures for Kakashi to take the first move as his mind races. It’s easy to see the why from Sasuke’s perspective. The village had begrudgingly accepted him back in, but ultimately saw him as another tool to wield. Despite everything, he still remains capable of doing significant damage to Konoha and he’d been easily swayed to destruction in his grief. Wanting someone else to hold the reins for a moment so he can rest his own mind makes sense.

But Kakashi’s role…

"What do you get out of it?” Shikamaru asks.

Kakashi moves his piece and glances at Sasuke, gaze soft. “Repentance, I think. For failing.”

The admission shocks Shikamaru and he frowns down at the board even as he moves one of his pieces. He’d always seen Sasuke successfully leaving Konoha as his own burden. Sure, he’d only had a team of genin, but there had been no one else to send and at the end of the day, it was his failure that had allowed Sasuke to get away in the first place. Then again, perhaps it had been inevitable.

“How did you fail?” Shikamaru asks.

Kakashi turns his attention back to the board and after a moment, moves a piece. “He was my responsibility and I failed to be the mentor he needed. I didn’t see how I could help him heal. I suppose I was so worried of letting down another Uchiha, I couldn’t see what he needed and was too focused on trying to fix myself through him instead. It was an unfair burden to put on a child.”

Shikamaru looks back at Sasuke, taking in the new tense clench of his jaw and the way his shoulders flex like he wants to move. The distress is tangible. When he looks back at Kakashi, the man is staring at Sasuke as if waiting for something. It seems obvious to Shikamaru that Sasuke needs something. If he can notice it, doubtless Kakashi does too. So why isn’t he doing something?

"Are you going to make a move?” Kakashi asks, gesturing at the board.

"Is he…” Shikamaru starts.

“Sasuke is fine.”

Shikamaru turns to the board and moves his next piece. “Do you know what he needs now?”

“Yes,” Kakashi says. He leans forward and studies the board a moment before sliding a piece forward. “He needs to trust that I’ll listen. I know how to do that now, but it was his loss that taught me that. I regret it took his sacrifice for me to learn that lesson.”

Shikamaru mulls the words over during the next few moves. Kakashi’s guilt makes sense to a degree. Perhaps if he’d been better, he could’ve stopped Sasuke’s betrayal and downward spiral. But Shikamaru isn’t so sure.

“Considering the circumstances, considering Madara, wasn’t what happened inevitable?” Shikamaru asks.

"Maybe,” Kakashi says. “Right or wrong, I have that guilt. Being what he needs now helps me feel as though I’m correcting that. He deserves peace.”

The words have barely left Kakashi’s mouth when Sasuke inhales, harsh and quick and then chokes on a distressed noise. Kakashi slides a piece across the board to claim one of Shikamaru’s.

“I don’t,” Sasuke says, voice a hoarse rasp.

“If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask,” Kakashi says, tone flat. When he gets no response, he sighs. “Color?”

“Green, Sir.”

“Good. Then who’s opinion matters right now?”

“Yours, Sir.”

"And what do I think?”

The tension is palpable, the air thick and heavy with it and Shikamaru watches the struggle play across Sasuke’s face and in the way he shifts in his bindings. He can see the point now, what Kakashi is guiding Sasuke to. The steps fall in place in his mind and he can see where he fits in the game. His very intrusion on this moment forces Sasuke into a position of vulnerability where he has no control, where he has no choice but to trust Kakashi to keep him safe.

It’s an exercise in learning to trust again.

"I deserve peace, Sir,” Sasuke says.

Just like that, the tension snaps. Sasuke sags in his bonds, shoulders hunching forward even as Kakashi stands and crosses the room to kneel in front of him. He embraces Sasuke like it’s easy. With an exceeding degree of gentleness, he unties the knots and Sasuke’s arm drops limp to his side before Kakashi reaches down and rubs his arm from shoulder to wrist.

There are quick whispers back and forth but Shikamaru doesn’t try to listen in. They’ve trusted him more than enough so far. He watches instead, taking in the way Kakashi guides Sasuke back to reality with careful touches along his arm and shoulders and face. It’s business-like in its efficiency but the intimacy of it all is still clear. After a few minutes, Kakashi leans back and undoes the blindfold. He drops it to the side and then draws Sasuke into a hug and somehow after everything he just witnessed, Shikamaru still finds himself shocked at how easily Sasuke accepts it.

And as he watches, something else wells up within him. Longing. It claws at his stomach like black tar, tainting his insides with its desperation for something he can’t have. For a moment, his brain grasps at the thought. Why can’t he have this? Why can’t he have absolution after everything? Is it a matter of deserving or is it something inside himself? Something that makes him recoil at the thought?

The shaking of his own hands snaps the trail of thought before he can follow it to its natural end. He shoves his hands in his pockets again. This is about Sasuke and he refuses to take attention away from him when he still needs it.

"Thank you,” he hears Sasuke whisper.

“Of course. Go and take a bath, I’ll be here when you’re done,” Kakashi says as he stands back up.

Sasuke nods and stands up as well. When he meets Shikamaru’s eyes, he’s surprised to see the usual cold look is nowhere to be found. There’s something soft in his eyes. Contentment? He’s not sure, but he sees why Naruto chased him for so long. If he’d known this person existed under all the pain and anger and grief, perhaps he would’ve been able to trust Naruto’s instincts earlier.

"Thank you,” Sasuke says.

Shikamaru nods because he isn’t sure what else he could possibly say. Sasuke’s lips quirk up into a smirk before he walks past him to the door that leads to the connected bathroom. Kakashi stretches, joints cracking as he does so.

“Well, so much for appearing attractive and youthful. My old age has been exposed,” Kakashi says, walking towards him.

“No worries, my kink is cracking joints,” Shikamaru says, then groans. “Sorry, that was bad. I’m a little off my game after all that. It was…intense.”

“Good or bad intense?” Kakashi asks, taking a seat at the table once more.

"Not sure,” Shikamaru says. “Still processing.”

“Can I see your hands?”

Shikamaru flushes and pulls them out, hating the way they shiver and shake. Kakashi leans forward and offers his own up.

“May I?” he asks.

Mouth dry, he nods again.

Kakashi holds his hands for a moment before bringing them together, cradling them between his own and letting them shake in the confined space he’s created. Something about the simple action makes the tightness in his chest loosen. His thoughts become even more slippery than they had been, sliding away before he can grasp them fully.

“Have you considered therapy?” Kakashi asks.

“Have you?”

“Point taken.”

Silence stretches between them and Shikamaru stares at their hands. His blood pushes through his veins, the rush of it taking up residence in his head and drumming his pulse into his mind.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

“Ah, Shikamaru, you don’t even realize what’s wrong, do you?”

Kakashi’s voice sounds muffled around the beat of his heart and his brain stumbles over the words, unable to make sense of them.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, tongue thick and slurring the words together as his vision blurs.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

On and on his heart beats and his hands go still, like he’s frozen in ice, but his blood is like the current that keeps moving deep below, propelling life onwards as it waits for spring.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

“You know he’s dropping right?” Sasuke asks. When did Sasuke get back?

“I’m very aware. I didn’t anticipate this.”

“Idiot.”

“Thank you for your input.”

The words wash over him and he can’t be bothered to parse out what they mean or what they’re talking about. He just wants to stay here, under the water, just beneath the still ice. Kakashi’s hands pull away from his. The thudding of his heart snaps out of focus and his ears ring from the sudden silence. He looks up and finds both Sasuke and Kakashi staring at him with equal looks of concern.

“Take a breath,” Kakashi says.

Shikamaru obeys, taking a deep breath the way he does when he’s trying to head off a panic attack. Except he doesn’t _feel_ panicked. So why…

“I’ll bring your board to you tomorrow. You should go back to your room and sleep,” Kakashi says, but it doesn’t sound like a suggestion. It’s an order.

But it’s one he wants to obey.

“Have a good night. Thank you, both of you,” Shikamaru says. 

He doesn’t remember walking back to his room, but for the first time since Asuma, he falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

-.-

When he wakes up the next morning, there’s a few brief seconds where everything feels right, like the world has finally shifted back into the right position. And then he remembers the events of the night before.

“Okay, okay, shut up,” he murmurs to the empty room.

He shoves his humiliation and shame to the side as his mind replays what had happened, extracting what useful information there is.

  1. _Sasuke is loyal to Kakashi and Naruto, not Konoha_
  2. _Kakashi cares very deeply for his former students in a way that could be dangerous diplomatically_
  3. _Sasuke is a highly emotional person no matter what his outward expression says_
  4. _He really liked Kakashi’s hands holding his_



His brain recoils at the last thought but it’s not as though it’s a lie. It’s just not something he can indulge. Just because it felt good doesn’t mean it was okay, in fact that almost made it even worse. The ashes of the man he loved are sitting in his bedroom at home and yet here he is, wishing for the comfort of someone else’s touch. It doesn’t matter if it stayed platonic. It’s still a betrayal.

A knock at the door interrupts his thought process. He pulls himself out of bed and walks to the door, steeling himself for who he knows is on the other side. Kakashi smiles, visible eye crinkling up, mini shogi board in hand.

“Thank you, Lord Hokage,” Shikamaru says, accepting the board.

Kakashi is too well experienced to appear put off by Shikamaru’s formality but Shikamaru knows the message is received anyways.

“Of course. I’ll see you soon. We leave within the hour,” Kakashi says.

Shikamaru shuts the door once he’s out of sight before sighing and leaning back against it, cradling the board against his chest as his heart thuds in his chest.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

-.-

He convinced Genma to trade carriages with him and spends the day with Shizune instead. She drills him on political formalities and niceties and it speaks to his desperate desire not to think about anything that had happened the night before that he finds himself engaged in it.

"You know, you wouldn’t make a bad diplomat if you put your mind to it,” Shizune says. “You remember the rules of polite society much better than Lady Tsunade or Kakashi.”

“It’d be a waste of what I can do,” Shikamaru says. “There’s a reason I’m in the position I am and why Ino’s finishing her training to join the interrogation unit even if it doesn’t suit her.”

Shizune frowns, straightening in her seat. “Are you saying being spy master doesn’t suit you?”

Shikamaru glances out the carriage window and debates the merits of just quitting his job right now. He hadn’t meant to reveal so much. But his mind still feels…soft, like his usual filter isn’t working fast enough. “I mean it doesn’t matter if it does or not. My father and his father were great strategists and so am I. Ino’s clan has a mastery of the Mind Transfer Jutsu. Temperament be damned, we’re the best at what we do.”

“You and Shikaku are quite different,” Shizune says, a thoughtful look on her face.

“What do you mean?” Shikamaru asks.

“He was always concerned about personality and temperament when helping form teams and pick missions for ANBU members,” she says.

“We’re shinobi. We’re tools. Those things can’t matter in the field, not when we have particular skillsets that are needed,” Shikamaru says.

Shizune raises an eyebrow and folds her arms across her chest. “You’ve been friends with Naruto this long and are really going to try and sell me that line?”

“Naruto is an idealist. That’s why he’ll have people like me to help make the hard decisions,” Shikamaru says. “He escaped the war with little personal loss when it came to friends, so to him the idea that not everyone gets out alive still doesn’t resonate. Not really.”

“You almost sound like Danzo with talk like that,” Shizune says.

He barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Hardly. Danzo just made up excuses to hide his need for power. I don’t share that particular desire.”

“So what _do_ you desire?” Shizune asks. “I have to say I was originally surprised to see you take the position of spy master. I would’ve thought you’d want to avoid it.”

Shikamaru shrugs. “What I want isn’t important.”

Shizune gives his shin a light kick. “Oh come on. You’ve gotta give me something to work with. It’s important to get to know your coworkers after all.”

“Troublesome, that’s what you are,” he says, but Shizune just laughs at his irritated expression.

"Call me whatever you want,” she says. “Just tell me one thing you want.”

Shikamaru looks back out the carriage window, leaning his head against it as he watches the clouds float by.

_“I deserve peace, Sir.”_

The words bounced around in his head, the cracked notes of relief and submission filling his chest with a feeling of such pained loneliness that he feels he might choke.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

“Shikamaru?”

"A cloud, Shizune, I want to be a cloud,” he says, because it’s easy and expected of him.

“Now, Shikamaru,” Shizune starts with a heavy sigh.

Shikamaru closes his eyes and gives an exaggerated snore.

“Maybe you and your father aren’t that different after all…”

-.-

Shikamaru wakes up panting with a flare of chakra that he clamps down on the moment his eyes open.

He prefers nightmares. The stench of death and the slick feeling of blood on his fingers pales in comparison to the feelings left behind by dreams full of memories that were best locked away. His cheeks burn, flush with anxiety. The smeared wetness of tears doesn’t help. He sucks in a lungful of air and flops back on the bed.

Raven watches from a perch on his hotel room windowsill. Shikamaru turns his head to look at him.

“I’m fine. You can go,” Shikamaru says.

"Nightmares?” Raven asks.

“No, and even if they were, you’re the last person I’d want to talk to about them.”

It’s more honesty than he wants to give but it works because Raven disappears a moment later. He wipes his face with the edge of the bedsheet before rolling out of bed and walking for the bathroom that connects his room to Kakashi’s. Electricity is finicky in the country. The overhead light dies the moment he hits it on. He settles for turning the small gas lantern on where it sits on the counter.

He splashes water on his face and leans back against the shower door as he stares up at the ceiling. His hands tremble but that’s not new. What is new is the phantom hair he can feel sliding through his fingers, the light brush of lips against his throat. Memories pressing themselves into his skin so he can’t forget. It’s a sick joke. Remembering what he’d had brings him nothing but pain, but he can’t bring himself to push the false sensations away. The feelings are just lingering aspects of a dream, but he’s tired of loneliness.

His breath hitches and he looks to the door that would take him to Kakashi’s room. If he asked, he knows Kakashi would provide. Even if all he asked for was the feeling of hands holding his own or if he asked for something like he gave Sasuke. Except he isn’t Sasuke. He doesn’t need absolution. What he needs is something, someone, he lost in a war and he doesn’t want to replace that. It’d be greedy to try.

But his feet lead him to the door anyway. His hand remains steady on the knob as he presses his forehead to the door and his hair spills around his face. The lantern makes his own shadow dance across the door. He wonders, not for the first time, if he could wrap himself tight enough in his own shadows that he wouldn’t feel alone. Desperation has never looked well, but it feels pathetic to even consider chasing comfort in such a way. At least then it would be safe.

If he opens the door and begs for a moment of respite, that’s all it is. A moment. Something that can be snatched away in a breath. The thought sobers him. His hand drops back to his side and he takes a deep breath and lets his own shadows tangle around his fingers. The cold chill chases away the memories of silky hair. Shadows claw up his chest and nestle around his throat, wiping out the memory of a last kiss with a touch so cold it burns. He chokes down a noise, _a plea, a gasp, a cry_ , and steps back from the door.

It takes all his energy to crawl back into bed, but sleep alludes him.

-.-

Seagulls caw overhead as the crew draws up the last of the ropes that tied them to the dock. Shikamaru leans against the rail facing the ocean, unlit cigarette between his lips as his fingers fiddle with the lighter. Genma gives a dramatic sigh and joins him, chewing at his senbon.

“You gonna light that?” he asks.

Shikamaru makes a noncommittal noise and then does so, taking a long and slow drag as he pockets the lighter.

“Maybe if you smoked weed instead you’d chill out,” Genma says.

Shikamaru twists his lips so when he blows out, the smoke clouds up into Genma’s face. It’s rather satisfying to hear him cough. He raises an eyebrow when Genma glares.

“You’ve proved my point,” Genma says.

“Uh-huh.”

Genma sighs and turns to lean back against the railing, head stretching back so he’s looking at the sky. “May I offer a word of advice?”

“You’re going to even if I say no, so go for it,” Shikamaru says.

“Good point. So. Kakashi and Raven keep whispering all conspiratorially or whatever and it’s probably about you. You might wanna just talk to Kakashi before they enact whatever mastermind plan to make you talk,” Genma says.

“What makes you think it’s got anything to do with me?” Shikamaru asks before taking another drag.

"You robbed me of Shizune’s lovely company just to avoid Kakashi and I _know_ you don’t like the finer points of where the napkin goes after appetizers,” Genma says.

“Oh? And you do?”

“No, but I like women and I’ve been trying to impress Shizune for like, two months now and your brooding and avoidance is a major barrier to that,” Genma says.

Shikamaru rolls his eyes and blows out the smoke towards the open air. “This sounds less like you looking out for me and more like you’re too impatient. Shizune is too classy for you.”

"Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of whatever those two are planning,” Genma says.

"They just don’t know how to mind their own business,” Shikamaru says. 

“Yeah, maybe. But you haven’t let anyone in your business since the war,” Genma says, tone turning serious.

“Keep forgetting you’re good at that whole observing thing,” Shikamaru says with a sigh.

“I’m very good at blending into the background, it’s why they make me proctor for the Chunin Exams,” Genma says with a smile. “But seriously. You’ve been a hermit and you know better than most being a recluse doesn’t help anyone.”

Shikamaru spits out the remains of the cigarette into the sea. “I’m getting real sick of people telling me what to do.”

“We just care about you. We all do,” Genma says.

With a frustrated groan, Shikamaru leans over the railing, trying not to let his anger get the best of him. Genma doesn’t deserve it. None of them do, no matter how frustrated he gets. “I didn’t ask for you or anyone else to. I’d prefer you didn’t.”

"Yeah, it doesn’t really work like that,” Genma says.

“Can you just drop it?”

“Yeah. I can. But only because I know Kakashi won’t.”

Shikamaru stares down at the water as the boat sails unravel to catch the wind. He gets that people care. He just wants to be on his own. He wants to be home tending the space he made for Asuma and his father. He wants to not be terrified that he’s made a grave miscalculation and put Aoba in danger. He wants to never fear the consequences of every strategic decision he makes. But none of that is possible. He doesn’t get what he wants because he’s the best _fucking chance_ his friends and comrades have of staying alive.

A touch at his lower back jerks him out of his thoughts. He straightens but doesn’t turn. Genma is gone. He hadn’t even noticed him leave.

“We should talk,” Kakashi says, voice soft from where he stands behind him.

"I just told Genma I have no interest.”

“I know. But I’m asking you to trust me for an hour,” Kakashi says.

Shikamaru blows out a final breath. “Fine.”

After last night and Genma’s bothering, he’s too tired to keep resisting. He can do an hour, say he tried, and say it just wasn’t for him. Kakashi leads him across the deck and Shikamaru isn’t surprised to see Raven peel off from a conversation to follow after them. Maybe if Genma had warned him sooner, he could’ve weaseled his way out of it. Or maybe not. He doesn’t know.

They weave their way through the underbelly of the boat until they reached what he assumes are Kakashi’s private quarters. He’s been to his own – a room of four rope hammocks. But that’s the perk of being Hokage.

He’s surprised Raven doesn’t follow them inside. The room is still fairly small, but there’s full-sized bed and a small writing desk at the opposite end. At the foot of the bed is a travel chest secured to the bolted down bed and that’s where Kakashi moves to sit. He’s in his civvies again, jeans and a sweatshirt with his usual face mask and plain eyepatch. Shikamaru stays by the closed door, arms folded across his chest.

“Alright. I’m here,” Shikamaru says.

“It’s not an ideal time. I would’ve preferred to speak with you about all this back home, but I think it’s become clear over the last few days that you’re at the end of your rope,” Kakashi says.

Shikamaru can’t help a short laugh. “I’ve been at the end of my rope since…” He shakes his head. “You know when, I don’t need to tell you.”

“No, you don’t, but it’s interesting that you can’t say his name or what happened,” Kakashi says. “Shikamaru, I-“

“If you’re about to say you know what I’m going through, just don’t. I understand that I’m in denial, I understand every shinobi experiences this or something similar, I understand there’s nothing special about my circumstances,” Shikamaru says, unable to stop the flow of words once they start. “But I don’t need or want help. All I have to be able to do is my job.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to shut himself up. When he meets Kakashi’s eyes, he’s expecting pity. All he gets is something unreadable, like he’s looking at a wall.

“I cannot begin to pick apart all the ways you are wrong in your assessment without being here all night, and I don’t think you’d listen to a word I said anyways,” Kakashi says, then shrugs. “And frankly, I don’t think either of us have the emotional intelligence to have a productive conversation anyways.”

“So then why am I here?”

“The other night…it helped didn’t it? When I held your hands,” Kakashi says.

“Yeah, for some reason. It was like…” Shikamaru shakes his head. “Like I was one of those fish you see trapped in an iced over lake, like I was alive but I couldn’t move.”

Kakashi leans forward on his knees, hands tangling in his own hair as he stares down at the ground. “You went so deep into subspace and all I did was hold your hands. I had no idea it was this bad for you.”

“I didn’t want you to know. I don’t want you to know or care now, but your point has been made. I need something to keep me steady until we get home.” Shikamaru drops his arms to his sides. “I never meant to be a burden.” The words nearly get stuck in his throat, bitter from the same that he’s this desperate to escape loneliness.

“You’re not a burden, Shikamaru. Now come here.”

The frustrated pity vanishes from Kakashi’s voice, his last words coming out as a command. Kakashi grabs a stray pillow from the bed and tosses it between his feet as Shikamaru approaches, the silent order of what he expects next clear. But something in Shikamaru still balks.

_What are you doing? Kneeling for a man like a hopeless child. Begging for scraps of affection like you could deserve it after everything. Like you could replace-_

Kakashi’s hands close around his shaking ones and tugs him forward. He goes, bowing his head and folding down onto his knees as Kakashi envelops his hands completely in his own. For a long moment, tension hangs in the air between them.

“Let go, Shikamaru.”

It takes more effort than it should for Shikamaru to force the shadows that coat his palms to keep his hands still to retreat. He’s made them cling so tight since the night he pulled away from Kakashi’s door. The shaking of his hands is violent, he can feel it in his bones. It rattles his knuckles and makes his jaw ache as he clenches his teeth, grinding them together like it’ll stop him from breaking apart. He wants to make the shaking stop, wants to wrap his weakness up and stash it away so no one can see how utterly incapable he is of accepting the reality of-

“Shh, just breathe,” Kakashi says.

Shikamaru exhales in a rush, shoulders hunching forward as the tension leaks out of him. He hadn’t realized how quickly he’d been breathing. Kakashi presses their hands together. His hands rebel against the action, trying to shake even as Kakashi wraps them tighter in his own, trying to release everything he holds close to his chest, trying to let it out so it doesn’t explode. So it doesn’t-

“Breathe, Shikamaru. Focus on your heartbeat.”

His heartbeat? His heartbeat. Something that’s always steady no matter how panicked he feels, no matter how scared he gets in the heat of battle. He swallows and concentrates past his frantic breathing. It’s easy to latch onto the sound.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

A steady reminder that he’s alive that drowns out everything else. He clings to it with single-minded focus, covering his racing thoughts about what he deserves, what he’s allowed, what’s right, and what’s wrong with the steady beat in his chest. Kakashi’s hands are warm. He lets his sphere of thinking expand so he can consider how nice it feels to have someone touch him.

He’s never been one for casual touch. It’s not that he didn’t like it, he just never learned how to initiate it. Only Ino ever insisted on hugging him, and that’s been increasingly rare, as if he’s erected some sort of barrier she doesn’t want to cross. Maybe he has. He can’t remember. He can’t remember how he’d ever softened up enough to let someone else in in the first place. It’s all been locked away so tight. In his mind’s eye he can see it, shaped like a jewelry chest that someone once stored their things in.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

He’s not supposed to touch that chest. Inside are all the things he can’t face, not yet. Somewhere, instinctive alarm bells ring as he reaches out for it, wanting to know his own secrets, wanting to know how he let someone in, let someone touch him and pick him apart and smile and kiss his brow and say **“ _You have given me the greatest gift in the world, Shikamaru. I want-“_**

No-

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

No one is safe with him. They are shogi pieces and he’s the player desperately trying to keep everyone in play when he knows-

**_“Do you know the hardest part about this job, Shikamaru?”_ **

-sacrifices must be made.

Hands pull away from his and he breaks free of the raging water beneath the ice. He collapses forward on all fours, head pressing to the edge of the mattress as Kakashi shifts off the bed and away from him. The thoughts that had moments ago been crashing through his head with crystal clarity slip away, like grasping at a stream. He wants to pound his fists against the ice and break through to where his own feelings and thoughts lie but he’s so tired.

“Here. Drink. Your throat must be dry.”

Shikamaru exhales and pushes himself back so he can sit on his heels and accept the offered flask of water. The water feels soothing on his own throat. Once he’s had his fill, he looks up at Kakashi.

“That didn’t feel like last time,” he says. “Not quite.”

“I noticed. I think subspace might be tricky for someone like you,” Kakashi says, taking a seat beside him but with his back resting against the bed. “For most people they stop thinking. With you, maybe it’s the opposite.”

Shikamaru shakes his head. That’s not quite it, but he’s not sure how to explain what it is either.

“Have you ever spoken to Ibiki about the method of loci as well as anti-torture techniques that ANBU learn?” Kakashi asks.

Shikamaru shakes his head. “Ibiki originally wanted to put me through the training but Tsunade wouldn’t let him.”

"Interesting."

"What is?" Shikamaru asks.

Kakashi shakes his head. "I'm just thinking is all. Did it help?"

Shikamaru takes a sip of water and begins to take stock of his body and mind. His hands are still. His mind feels...slow. It's not fuzzy and warm like before but it _is_ calmer than he had been. An improvement, undoubtedly. But still, there's an undercurrent of anxiety about what he'd felt. He _knows_ he's repressed much of his one and only relationship, he notices it every time he tries to think about it and his mind recoils. It's concerning. It's the source of everything probably.

"A little," he says. "Still processing. There's some things I need to think about."

"Penny for your thoughts?" Kakashi asks.

When Shikamaru looks at him, his visible eye is crinkled up from his smile. It's...endearing.

"Trying to seduce me in my moment of weakness?" he deflects.

Kakashi's expression grows serious. "I wouldn't. Whether you believe it or not, Shikamaru, you _are_ vulnerable like this. I'm grateful you're giving me the chance to help. I promise I won't take advantage of that."

He's not sure why the earnestness of Kakashi's words takes him by surprise, but it does. He recaps the water flask and hands it back. "Thank you."

-.-

The problem with bunking with three other shinobi is he can't hide his nightmares. It's not like they make it weird. It comes with the territory and none of them, not even Genma, mention it. Still, it eats at him. He's supposed to be someone to turn to, someone to trust, but when he's stumbling through the hallway that rocks with the waves, it's hard not to feel like a silly child that can't handle their feelings.

Sea air helps when he makes it to the deck. He avoids the man doing security rounds and after a moment of hesitation, leaps his way up to the ropes of the sails. He tucks himself away in the shadow of a sail and reclines back. The sky is clear, the half-moon appearing bright with nothing but stars around it. No clouds to gaze at, but it'll do.

His thoughts drift away from the incomprehensible mess of his dreams to what Kakashi had asked earlier. He'd ended up bugging Genma about what the method of loci was at dinner earlier that evening, but all it did was confuse him more.

_"To memorize things, we can create a space to store memories, like rooms in your childhood home or your school. It makes it possible for ANBU to store a lot of information and recall it quickly by entering wherever they stored the memories, and in other cases, they can secure it."_

_"What do you mean secure it?"_

_"I mean resistant to torture. If you create a secured place for what you don't want to remember unless prompted correctly, it can't be tortured out of you."_

_"And Ibiki trains ANBU in this?"_

_"And some of the jounin, the ones with special jobs like you and your father, or Anko."_

A skill Tsunade hadn't wanted him to learn and yet somehow, he supposes he has. But a room in a house hadn't been enough to contain what he was trying to hide from everyone and himself. He needs a whole lake. Maybe, if that's what he's even doing. Clearly Kakashi suspects he's done something like that to himself, but frankly, he still doesn't know enough to be sure if he's right. It seems like a pretty extreme reaction to someone dying - people died all the time in their world. Everyone's lost someone, but they don't do this. Maybe he never learned anything from Asuma’s death like he thought he did. 

He reaches into his jacket pocket, fingers curling around an all too familiar lighter. It's easy to remember the moment he'd finally cried. It'd been some of the worst pain in his life, like he was being turned inside out. His father's death had felt the same. But this...no wonder he needs a lake and a foot of ice to hold it all back. With Asuma, he'd grieved because his father gave him permission and been there to help him put himself back together. But with his father and- 

"Can't even think his name. What a fucking joke," he sighs. 

"Brooding _and_ talking to yourself? Better slow down or I'll be out a job," Sasuke says, appearing beside him and reclining back in the ropes that looks too casual. He's without his ANBU mask which means his words aren't being said out of some misguided sense of professionalism. That almost makes it stranger. 

"I don't think I could ever replace you in that department," Shikamaru says. "Are we friends now or something?"

Sasuke snorts and it sounds just as derisive as it did when they were kids. "No. Takes a lot more than seeing me once in a scene to be friends."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Beats sitting on my own."

“I don’t really want to talk,” Shikamaru says, voice drawling.

Sasuke either doesn’t get the hint or chooses not to. “Yeah, me neither.”

Shikamaru stares at him for a moment longer and then settles back into the ropes, gaze turning up to the moon once more. Whatever. He could deal with Sasuke’s weirdness.

It does get him thinking again though. He’s never seen himself as particularly incompetent in anything. He’s a passable fighter, his chakra control is fairly advanced, and obviously his strategic skills were some of the best. But clearly he’s even worse at emotions than he previously thought. After all, Sasuke had been through far more and now lays beside him as nonchalant as can be. Well, if one overlooked the war he helped start as a coping mechanism, but Shikamaru can recognize that the war was going to happen with or without Sasuke’s presence.

The heart of the matter is, the tragedies of his life paled in comparison to Sasuke’s. His own weakness is painfully clear. How is he to care for the Hidden Leaf shinobi the way his father did when three deaths left him a nervous wreck? Then again…he doesn’t have a Naruto or Kakashi to offer him refuge and forgiveness. The people who could’ve provided such a thing are dead. So is he doomed to drown in that deep lake trying to reach the chest at the bottom whenever he finally confronts what he fears most?

Melodramatic, that’s what he is. He’s become everything he always stuck his nose up at. Well…not always. He still remembers his knees going weak from fear and exhaustion when Asuma had saved him during the Chunin Exams when he’d thought for sure he was going to die because he couldn’t bring himself to be selfish. Everywhere he looks, all he can finds are moments where his heart was too big. Who did he think he was fooling back then? Who does he think he’s fooling now? Certainly not Kakashi, or Genma, or Ibiki, or anyone he dealt with on a regular basis.

The thought makes him feel sick in a way. Is everyone just humoring him? Do they think he’s foolish? That doesn’t seem all that likely but he’s not sure how he’s gone this long without anyone calling him on it. Then again, there’s no one among those in the Intelligence and Analysis Divisions that Shikamaru would peg as being in touch with their emotions. Maybe that’s the whole problem.

They just see him as the end result of someone who couldn’t cope with the world properly. Just like them. Just like the kids they were raising in the Academy.

“How old was Itachi when he…” Shikamaru trails off, realizing how inappropriate the question is far too late.

“Thirteen,” Sasuke answers. When Shikamaru glances at him, his face is turned up to the moonlight, but his visible eye remains shut. “The same age I left for Orochimaru.”

The same age of his first mission where he failed and nearly got all his friends killed.

“You ever think maybe they start us too young?”

“Is that even a question?”

No. He supposes it really isn’t.

“Hey, Sasuke?”

Sasuke opens an eye and looks at him, looking as disinterested as ever. It’s almost enough to make him shut up. But hey, he’s already come this far.

“Do you think I’m…” He searches for the right word, not wanting to come off as though he’s fishing for compliments, but it seems unavoidable. “Pathetic?”

Sasuke closes his eye. “For what?”

“For not coping well with someone dying. For something all shinobi go through.”

The sigh Sasuke lets out doesn’t sound irritated, just tired. “I’m in no position to judge anyone about coping with death but knowing you, there’s a reason you want my opinion specifically. So, for what it’s worth, no. I don’t think you’re pathetic. Losing anyone you love is hard.”

Shikamaru lets silence take over once more and mulls over the words. It does help – the validation. Having someone like Sasuke affirm that the scale of tragedy doesn’t matter, that it hurts no matter what, soothes his fear of inadequacy. At least a little bit.

“Thanks,” he says.

Sasuke hums a noise of assent.

-.-

The next day passes with little in the way of excitement. Kakashi gets swept away by Shizune to go over all the proper and diplomatic phrases and actions so Shikamaru plays shogi with Genma for part of the day. It’s not all fun and games though. Raven shows up mid-afternoon to discuss tactics on locating and following Aoba once he leaves for his check in. The problem is he’s still not used to being part of an official government delegation.

“You can’t come with us,” Raven says. “If anyone sees or recognizes you, it’ll create issues.”

“And I’m saying the Hokage needs his guard,” Shikamaru says. “And if I’m right, I don’t think Aoba is going to be honest with anyone but me. There’s a reason he tried to only get my attention.”

“He makes a good point,” Genma says. “Something has Aoba spooked. Having you show up might make it worse.”

The air seems to chill but Genma _is_ right. While most of Sasuke’s acquaintances no longer see him as a threat, most of the remaining active shinobi avoid him. If Aoba is already on edge, sending Sasuke to meet him could send the wrong message. But Sasuke makes a good point as well.

“My genjutsu isn’t that great,” Shikamaru says.

“We can send Leopard with you. Next to Raven she’s the best at genjutsu and even if you get startled, she can keep it up,” Genma says. “Raven should stay with the Hokage. We don’t really know what threats to expect here.”

“Are there threats?” Sasuke says. “Outside the usual ones I mean.”

“Kinzo is a distant cousin to the current King of the Orange Islands,” Shikamaru says. “We’ve suspected for a while that he’s involved so our presence here, even under the guise of peace and diplomacy is going to put them on guard. And on top of that, there’s a budding civil war with the islands’ indigenous people. The Hokage needs protection. There’s too many moving players.”

"Fantastic,” Raven says.

"You’d know this already if you came to the briefing meeting before,” Genma says.

“I was busy,” Raven says. “But point made. I’ll stay with the Hokage and work with Leopard to make a suitable genjutsu for Shikamaru.”

“I’ll pick two more people to back you up,” Genma says. “It’ll be best if you approach him on your own, but we don’t know his intentions, so I don’t want you out there with only Leopard as a backup.”

“Just make sure they stay out of sight.”

“We can do that,” Genma says. “Now, the palace has a bit of…okay a lot of security concerns. It was originally built by the indigenous tribe, the Garif. It has countless entrances and exits and not even all of them are known to the current occupants. Here’s the current lay out we have…”

-.-

Shikamaru slips into the closet of the motel room where one of Konoha’s messenger birds sits politely on the footrest of the bed. Leopard is in the room next to them. Bear and Fox are below the window. He can’t feel their chakra – they all suppressed it before they headed out of the palace where the Hokage was having a lovely government dinner with the others. Shikamaru’s almost happy to be here. He just wishes it were under better circumstances.

The sound of key in the door lock jars him out of his thoughts. A moment later, he feels a genjutsu release and it takes all his energy to stop himself from cursing. He’ll have to stay in hiding for now. The door opens and Aoba steps through, wrapped in a dark brown cloak with the hood pulled up and without his trademark shades. That alone makes him unrecognizable. The bleach blonde hair he has makes him even more so. Aoba glances around the room before shutting the door and locking it before heading towards the bed. He tugs his cloak off, the motion hiding his actions but not the sound of him tugging a kunai free and tossing it towards him.

Shikamaru ducks and sends his shadows out to freeze Aoba where he stands, swearing as the kunai crashes through the door and into the wall behind him. He knows his chakra suppression isn’t as good as everyone else’s. He genuinely hadn’t anticipated Aoba would attack so fast. His situation must be worse than he originally thought. He slips the shadows up to cover Aoba’s mouth before he can say anything and then tugs him back towards the closet.

“Don’t say my name, okay?” Shikamaru whispers, cracking the closet door open so they can see each other.

He releases the shadows and Aoba sits up before resting his forearms on his knees and dropping his head between them. “Took you long enough.”

"Sorry,” Shikamaru says. “I had to make sure there was a pattern first.”

"Thank you for coming. Though bringing the Hokage probably wasn’t the smartest of moves,” Aoba says.

"And why’s that?” Shikamaru asks, voice steady even as his heart begins to pound.

"There’s a plot to assassinate the King,” Aoba says.

“By Kinzo?”

Aoba looks up and shakes his head. “By the Garif. And I’ve been helping them.”

"You didn’t mention _that_ in the report,” Shikamaru says. “You were sent here to obtain proof of the King’s involvement with Kinzo’s human trafficking, not join indigenous revolutionaries.”

“I know that!” Aoba reaches up to cover his face with his hands and rub at his eyes. “I…things got messed up six months ago and Kinzo stopped trusting me. But what I did attracted the attention of the Garif and then one thing led to another and now I’m in so deep I have no fucking clue how to get back out of it.”

“Couldn’t you have just been a traitor? That’d make this so much easier,” Shikamaru says with a sigh.

“I know I messed up. I couldn’t report all of it when I didn’t know how to fix it and-“

"I get it,” Shikamaru says. “But I’m here now so let’s fix it.”

Aoba takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“So what went wrong first?” Shikamaru asks, digging out his journal full of his other notes in the Nara shorthand.

Aoba drops his hands, gaze sliding towards the left like he can’t bear to look him in the eye. It’s…concerning.

“We were transporting some kids from one of the Garif villages that had been raided,” he says. “One of them, this ten-year-old kid, snuck up on one of our group and stabbed him in the back. She didn’t hit anything vital but it pissed everyone off. Kinzo’s brother, Gin, grabbed me and told me to restrain her so he could teach her a lesson while the others headed back to town.”

Shikamaru’s stomach rolls but he keeps his expression steady. He’s read enough reports to know what counts as punishment in Gin and Kinzo’s eyes, especially when it comes to girls.

“I grabbed her before she could run but I…I couldn’t let him do that to her.” Aoba’s voice cracks and Shikamaru looks away when he notices the tears welling up in Aoba’s eyes. “No one knows about my ninjutsu skills so when I grabbed her arms, I triggered the Scattering Thousand Crows. When Gin was distracted, I stabbed myself with a kunai in the leg and hand and gave it to her and told her to run.”

The sheer stupidity of his actions is clear. Months of work could’ve been ruined if they had realized what had happened.

“With my injuries, no one could really claim it was me, but they stopped letting me go on runs,” Aoba continues. “And a little after that, on my way to a check in, one of the Garif found me. We talked. I thought maybe I could salvage the situation if I worked with them, but then the King started rounding up anyone who looked like they might be Garif and everything escalated.”

"That’s an understatement.”

“I’m sorry,” Aoba says, finally looking back at Shikamaru. “I thought I was capable of this…”

Shikamaru sighs and lets his head thunk back against the closet wall. “We can fix this. I’m not sure how yet, but I’ll figure it out. In the meantime, try to stall the Garif and see if they’ll be willing to meet with me. We have the same goal here, roughly. I can make this work.”

“I can do that,” Aoba says.

“And try not to expose yourself to Kinzo,” he says. “I take it you’ve been meeting with the Garif on the days you miss your check in?”

Aoba nods. “Other days too, when I get the chance.”

“Okay,” Shikamaru says. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. Then he opens his journal, digs around in his pocket for a writing utensil and looks back at Aoba. “Let’s go over all of this from the beginning as detailed as possible.”

-.-

“Well…we’ve certainly gotten ourselves into a bit of a tough spot, haven’t we?” Kakashi asks.

“This is a political disaster,” Shizune says.

They’re huddled together around the round table in the sitting area of Kakashi’s quarters in the palace, the door and windows guarded by ANBU.

“I don’t even know how we begin to fix this,” Shizune says. “The daimyos give Konoha a lot free reign, but being complicit in or standing by as one of the Kings of one of the main island nations is assassinated, will not end well. Even if he is guilty.”

“The whole point of Sparrow’s mission was to gather evidence to unseat him utilizing legal methods. Is that completely out of the question now?” Genma asks.

“It depends on if we can get the rebels to work with us instead of against us,” Shikamaru says.

“We cannot be seen explicitly working with them. The daimyo would rather have their own corrupt politician in power than throw their support behind the indigenous people,” Shizune says.

“So we remove the King from power and throw our support behind a proper council formation,” Kakashi says. He looks at Shikamaru. “We’ve seen a move towards councils forming in areas nobles have abandoned. Does that seem possible here?”

“I don’t know yet,” Shikamaru says. “If the rebels are already working on an assassination plan, I don’t know how willing they’ll be to back down. Sparrow does appear to have their trust so that will work to our advantage. We just have to get Sparrow to play along.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Shizune asks.

“Deep cover,” Genma says, jumping in before Shikamaru can open his mouth. “Sparrow is a sensory shinobi with some level of mind reading powers. Going by Shikamaru’s notes, it’s obvious being inundated with thoughts of violence against children has swayed his loyalty to the rebels instead of us. Sparrow has a strong moral code. That has a chance of trumping village loyalty. Really, it already has.”

Shikamaru swallows as his heart sinks to his stomach. Genma’s assessment is correct. It’s clear now that he’s laid it out so plainly, because Genma _knows_ what is important in Aoba’s life. Shikamaru didn’t, and really, he still doesn’t. In fact, he’s actively worked _not_ to know. And now he has a huge and potentially deadly mess on his hands with no one to blame but himself.

“So then what’s our strategy?” Kakashi asks, looking at Shikamaru with a pointed stare.

“Send Genma with Sparrow,” he says. He glances at Genma, relieved when the man nods his agreement. “He can keep Sparrow in check and I can stay connected over the radio so we can strategize at the same time.”

“Works for me. Sparrow said he’d be in touch tomorrow morning, right?” Genma asks.

Shikamaru nods.

“Then I’m off to bed. Don’t worry, I’ll study the notes you prepared for me first,” Genma says as he gets to his feet. “This isn’t the worst I’ve seen as far as diplomatic disasters go.” 

“Comforting,” Shikamaru says.

“I’ll touch up on my knowledge of indigenous customs. It won’t help if we offend anyone with ignorance,” Shizune says, gathering up her notes.

Shikamaru watches them leave and as soon as the door clicks shut, he deflates, the shadows that keep him still dissipating as he exhales. His breath races with too many thoughts, none of them even partially complete. He leans forward, arms folding on the table as he rests his forehead on them and stares down at the table while he struggles to collect himself. It doesn’t feel like he’ll be able to.

“Shikamaru?” Kakashi asks and Shikamaru knows exactly what he’s going to ask next. So he answers before he bothers.

“Yes, I would like help.”

“Alright.”

There’s not a judgmental note to be found in his voice, but even if there had been, Shikamaru isn’t sure he’d care. He just wants someone to bring him some clarity. Kakashi stands and grabs Shikamaru’s shoulders, tugging at him until he gets to his feet and leading him towards the bed. It’s much more opulent than the one on the boat, billowing red silk canopies and more pillows than any shinobi would ever want or need. Kakashi doesn’t bother with the bedside gas lamp. It leaves the room dark minus the light on the meeting table.

Kakashi sits at the side of the bed like before and tosses one of the gaudy pillows between his feet where Shikamaru kneels without hesitation. It’s easier now. He’s comforted by the knowledge that he’s done this before and it helped. It’ll help now. It’s no longer in his hands.

“Eyes closed,” Kakashi says as he takes Shikamaru’s trembling hands in his own.

Shikamaru obeys and steadies his breath, counting the seconds in and out in an attempt to drown out his thoughts and chase down that icy lake. For a while, he thinks it’s working. But the thoughts never truly stop. The moment his brain goes quiet, guilt and shame spiral up and send him spinning again. It makes him want to scream. All he wants is some peace but the sinking feeling that he doesn’t deserve it keeps gnawing at him insides before he can relax into the solace Kakashi tries to provide.

“Not helping this time, is it?” Kakashi asks.

The question draws his mind back to the way his hands are still shaking. He curls his fingers into fists but it doesn’t help.

"Why not?” he asks. “Why isn’t it helping?”

“Could be a few things,” Kakashi says, rubbing his thumbs along the back of Shikamaru’s hands. “Sometimes there’s no reason, you just aren’t in the mood. It could be stress. Could be guilt too.”

Shikamaru’s brain stutters over the last one. In his mind’s eye, the scene he’d been allowed to view of Sasuke replays, the subtle ways Kakashi punished him to purge his guilt – the blindfold, the ropes, the restraint, the casual humiliation. All of it pushed Sasuke along until he felt he’d paid his dues. And then he got his reward – catharsis, praise, as much touch as he could tolerate.

But Shikamaru doesn’t have that. He can’t. Not yet. What peace does he deserve when his inability to be close and understand those in his care jeopardized Aoba’s well-being? Of course, the rational part is well aware that if Sasuke can have peace he can too. Nothing he does will ever compare. But the other part of him balks at the idea of getting a reward when he deserves the opposite, when he hasn’t yet earned the right to be rewarded.

He lets out a longer sigh and opens his eyes. “I think I haven’t earned it. I shouldn’t be allowed to escape punishment for jeopardizing us.”

"It’s not just that,” Kakashi says. “There’s something else, you just aren’t ready to say it yet.”

And he’s right. Shikamaru knows he is. Why he needs the truth dragged out of him, he doesn’t know. Perhaps he’s too scared. If he could get beyond the ice that bars him from his own emotions, perhaps he’d understand why.

“Will you allow me to punish you, Shikamaru?”

“Yes.”

Kakashi releases his hands and stands up, walking towards where his bags are on a nearby dresser. He rummages around and returns with a ration bag that contains uncooked rice and Shikamaru realizes what his plan is a moment later.

“Stand up, roll your pant legs up over your knees and kneel back down when I tell you to,” Kakashi says, voice firm and unemotional.

Shikamaru obeys and watches as Kakashi kicks the cushion aside and then scatters a handful of hard rice grains in two piles. He evens them out and sits back down on the bed.

“Kneel there with your full weight on each one, arms behind your back,” he says. “Eyes open but look at the floor.”

It takes a moment to make himself obey, something in him recoiling at willingly subjecting himself to the pain. But he wants the forgiveness it promises more. He doesn’t make a sound as he kneels, even as the grains sink into his skin and send alarm bells ringing through his head. It’s a double punishment. Without being able to look Kakashi in the eyes, he has no way to seek reassurance. It’s just him and the slow growing pain. He tries to think. Tries to rest himself.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-_

But within minutes he finds himself losing the battle. Every thought is interrupted by knife-like pain shooting through his kneecaps to his spine. Even those begin to come faster. Before long, each exhale is pained, closer to a gasp and a whine, though the noise never fully escapes his throat. He tries to cling to the sound of his heartbeat but he can’t find it, the stabs of pain crescendoing to a burning wave that radiates through him, cracking and splintering the ice. The pain sends him careening into a flood of feelings that crash over him with no resistance.

Guilt. Shame. Disgust.

He’s so pathetic. So scared of how good he is at not caring, putting good people in situations that they can’t handle because saving them from failure is too much work. That takes care, takes love, takes all the things he can’t give. Because he’s not good enough. His incompetence could get a good man killed and even if it didn’t, the mental harm alone is unforgivable. He could’ve avoided it if he were a better person.

"What did you do wrong, Shikamaru?” Kakashi asks, his voice cutting through the pain and overwhelming emotion like a knife.

“I assigned Sparrow to a mission he was doomed to fail.” The words spill out of him in a pained and mumbled gasp and he chokes on a cry as the renewed awareness of the pain in his knees washes through him.

"And why did you do that?”

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

Shikamaru lets out a strangled noise of frustration as the pain threatens to overwhelm him. “Because I didn’t know him well enough to know better!”

“And why don’t you, isn’t that your job?” Kakashi asks, and his voice is so still, so cold, it grates against him.

“Because I’m scared…” Shikamaru sucks in a gulp of air and exhales with a wet sob, shoulders hunching forward. “Because I’m scared of caring.”

“Why?”

Why? Why is he scared? Isn’t it fucking obvious to anyone and everyone? It feels like a brand on his face, something ugly and horrific he couldn’t scrub away that everyone could see. He’s a coward – something no one in his position should ever be.

“Why, Shikamaru?”

His hands twist together behind his back, blunt nails clawing into his own skin in an attempt to ground himself but all it does is mix in with the rest of the pain ricocheting through his body. He inhales, chest burning as he does so.

"Because I’m scared to lose people I care about.”

He crumples as soon as the words escape him. Kakashi catches him as he falls and Shikamaru lets go.

-.-

When he comes back into his body, Kakashi is rubbing balm into his knees. They’re both on the floor together and a quick glance around shows that the rice has been swept away already. He looks down at his knees, sees the angry red indents. They still hurt, especially as the thick cream fills the abraded flesh to protect it and help it heal, but it’ll keep him from limping in the morning and that’s what matters. The skin of his cheeks feel tight from the dried tears but he doesn’t even remember crying.

“Normally, this is where I tell you I’m proud, and I am, but I have something else I need to say first,” Kakashi says as he works. “You have to get this under control. I know it’s hard. But we have a delicate political matter to deal with, and I am going to be the cruel leader who asks you to hurt yourself for my own gain.”

"What do you mean?” Shikamaru asks, watching Kakashi’s fingers pull away.

“I mean I’m going to ask you to bury all of this that you’re feeling and deal with it later,” Kakashi says. “There’s too much here to try and get you stable enough to function on your own, and I apologize because I feel as though I’ve helped you confront these difficult ideas and now I’m telling you to look away again.”

Shikamaru shakes his head, still staring down at his knees because looking up at Kakashi is too difficult. “It’s not something you have to apologize for. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.”

And for once, Shikamaru doesn’t argue with the statement. He’s not sure if he believes it, but maybe it’s a testament to Kakashi’s skill that the idea doesn’t sound as repulsive to him as it normally does.

“So what do we do?” Shikamaru asks.

"On the boat, when you knelt for me, where did you go?” Kakashi asks. “In your head I mean?”

“You mean the method of loci,” Shikamaru says. “You think that’s what subspace is like for me.”

“Yes, that’s been my theory,” Kakashi says. “Watching you in that space, your eyes move back and forth as if you’re processing things. I think it’s less a matter of subspace and closer to something like hypnotism with you.”

Shikamaru shakes his head. “No, not quite. It’s not more thinking it’s like…you get me thinking about things I normally don’t think about.” He’s not sure he wants to elaborate, but the words begin to spill out of him without his permission. “In my head it’s like there’s me and I’m standing on a frozen lake but when you make me sit and focus on my heartbeat it’s like I’m in the water, under all the ice. And all the things I avoid out of habit are right there.”

“Anything else you can share with me?” Kakashi asks.

“There’s a…there’s a jewelry box at the bottom of the lake,” Shikamaru says, trying to remember everything from the last time he’d been able to imagine himself there. “And on the north shore there’s a tree too, and to the south a whole forest. I imagine there’s something important in all of these locations, but I don’t really want to find out, not now. This isn’t the time.”

“I agree,” Kakashi says. “Do you mind if I share this information with Sasuke? I think…I think it is possible to use the Sharingan to at least temporarily seal part of you away until we deal with the issue at hand. At least, if you think that would be easier.”

“Is that entirely safe?” Shikamaru asks.

“I don’t know,” Kakashi says. He sets the balm aside and wipes his hands on his pants before reaching out to take Shikamaru’s hands in his. “I’m only offering because I think as you are now…”

“I’m a liability,” Shikamaru says. “Yeah…”

“We don’t have to decide anything right now,” Kakashi says. “Sleep on the idea, and I’ll talk to Sasuke to see if it’s even possible to accomplish such a thing. We’ll see what happens with Genma and Aoba, formulate our plan, and then, if it’s something you wish to do, we’ll perform this to keep you safe until we leave.”

“I never wanted to be the one causing all the trouble.”

“I know.” Kakashi’s thumbs rub over the back of his hands, the simple motion more soothing than Shikamaru cares to admit. “But you’ve sacrificed enough of yourself for Konoha, don’t you think? It’s about time we do something to ease your burden, at least for a little while.”

“And what happens after? When we leave?” Shikamaru asks.

“Then we deal with all this,” Kakashi says. “I have no intention of letting you weather whatever storm lies under that ice alone, Shikamaru. I hope you understand that now.”

Maybe it just speaks to how tired he is of pushing forward alone, but the idea of leaning on someone, of leaning on Kakashi, doesn’t repulse him the way it has the last few weeks. “I understand. Thank you.”

-.-

Shikamaru dreams. He dreams of the lake, of the black pine tree that towers on the shoreline, of the ice so thick he can’t see through it to the bottom. He dreams of his fingers sliding through soft hair as he tries to braid it and the amused laugh of its owner in his ear when he fails once more. The longing that fills him leaves the pleasant dream feeling bitter instead.

He awakens dripping in sweat as if from a nightmare.

It’s not sustainable. He’s known that for years now, known that wasting his energy, clinging on by a strained and bare thread, was only a temporary solution. That eventually, the ice would crack, and he’d plunge head long into its depths, forced to face what he feared or drown, and he knows that in his current state, drowning is all the more likely. His inadequacy stings. His failure to handle himself so that he may handle his job, may handle others, cuts deep, even with Kakashi’s punishment and subsequent forgiveness and understanding.

As the night drags on and he stares up at his ceiling, he grapples between the warring ideas in his mind. Things are bad enough now that he isn’t even sure which idea is the emotional one and which one is the logical one, the frustration with himself that he let it get this bad in the first place fighting against the crippling fear of political disaster that means the only choice he has is the one that leaves him reliant on others. At the end of the day, the frustration doesn’t bring a solution. The fear does. No matter how afraid of Kakashi’s solution he is, there is no other way out of this. His mental state is simply too fragile to be capable of his usual schemes.

He finds himself longing, deeply, to go back in time. Undoubtedly everyone wishes to return to a time where things were simpler, but he’s never wasted time or energy on desiring something so foolish and unobtainable. All he can do was push forward. But for now, for just a little while, he lets himself long for something he can’t ever have.

-.-

The next day and early evening go well. The Garif, thanks to the work of Aoba and Genma both, are inclined to hold off on their plans in exchange for a seat at the table in how the island will be run. Whether they’ll stick to their word remains to be seen, but from what he hears, it seems clear they don’t want it to come to a matter of violence. It’s only desperation that’s driven them so far. With everything falling neatly into place, and with a wealth of damning information from the Garif themselves that will help them bury the King and his brother both, it becomes a matter of laying the trap and letting them stumble into it.

Which leaves them with one final thing on their plate to deal with before things start to move.

“This is such a bad idea,” Genma says.

“Your opinion is noted and disregarded,” Kakashi says. “And I’ll throw you out if you give another one. You’re here because Shikamaru felt it was necessary, but I am quite comfortable ignoring both of your wishes.”

Shikamaru shrugs from where he sits on a cushion on the floor in the middle of Kakashi’s bedroom when Genma looks at him. “He and Raven are running the show. You’re here so that you’re on the same page as the three of us, and so you can help keep me in check if I get a little too ruthless.”

“This is not what I meant when I said you should deal with your shit,” Genma says.

“Do you have another suggestion?” Shikamaru asks. He holds his hands up, exposing the inky darkness of his shadows he still has to use to keep them still. “Because this is also not a solution and I need to get us all out of this situation alive and without the daimyos having an excuse to start a war or strip away power from the villages. I can’t do that unless you’re one hundred percent on board.”

“I don’t get why I’m involved at all,” Genma says.

“I’m putting his emotions away,” Raven says as he enters the room, removing his mask and disappearing it into his bag before setting it on the nearby table. “It’s like he said. He needs someone to keep him in check. I don’t know how much this will affect him.”

“And what if you can’t bring him back?” Genma asks. “Have any of you considered the real danger you’re putting him in, here? Is he that much of a sacrificial lamb?”

“I believe I told you to stop giving your opinion,” Kakashi says. “I can make that an order.”

Shikamaru huffs out a breath and gets to his feet so he can stand in front of Genma and look him in the eye. “I know you care. And I know Kakashi cares too. This is the _only_ way forward right now, and there’s no point in trying to blame Kakashi for the people who turned me and my friends into child soldiers in the first place. We’re dealing with the aftermath as best we can.”

He can see the wheels spinning in Genma’s head as he assesses Shikamaru’s words. After another moment, he nods.

“Okay,” he says. “And is there a plan if this ends up being permanent?”

“Yes.” Shikamaru doesn’t elaborate. There’s no use talking about it. Kakashi and Sasuke know what to do if that happens and that’s all Shikamaru needs. He doesn’t want to live a life like that.

“Kneel for me,” Kakashi says. “I’ll start, and once you’re there I’ll let SRaven finish it.”

Shikamaru kneels back on the cushion, surprised when Kakashi sits down across from him. But then, this isn’t like what they’ve done before. They’re on equal footing here. Kakashi holds his hands out and Shikamaru takes a deep breath, letting the shadows melt away before letting his trembling hands rest in Kakashi’s like before.

“I want you to imagine that place we spoke about, the lake. Can you explain what it looks like to me?” Kakashi asks.

Shikamaru nods. “It’s a lake in a valley, frozen on top. When I’m above it, it feels like I’m pounding on the ice trying to get through, but when we’ve done this before, it’s like I just slip through to what’s underneath.”

Kakashi closes his hands, folding Shikamaru’s together and forcing them to be still. Like a dog that hears their food being dropped in a bowl, instinct brings his heartbeat roaring to the forefront.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

“And what’s underneath?”

“Everything,” Shikamaru says, staring down at their clasped hands. “All my feelings, my fear, my anger. It’s all there. But it isn’t overwhelming the way it feels normally when I fall through on accident, it’s like…I can think clearly when it’s with you.”

“Okay, good,” Kakashi says, and already his words feel so slow, muffled. “Can you imagine that place for me?”

_Boom-boom, boom-boom-_

He sits on the ice, kneeling like he had in the room with Kakashi and Genma and Sasuke, but none of them are here with him. Somehow though, he feels Kakashi’s hands holding his still.

“Okay, go ahead,” he hears Kakashi say, the voice echoing around him.

A moment later, the color of the sky goes dark and the clouds begin to bleed red, soaking the landscape in a deep crimson that has the hair at the back of his neck rising. Sasuke appears before him when he blinks and he jerks back only to be held in place by the phantom pressure of Kakashi’s hands. Sasuke’s Sharingan spins and he tries to remember to breathe.

“You want to stay, don’t you?” Sasuke asks, and his voice is almost…gentle.

The thought is distant, but Shikamaru wonders if here, in this space that’s not quite real, if it’s easier for Sasuke to be human. To be vulnerable. In a place he has total control, Shikamaru supposes it only makes sense.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-_

“I know, but I need you to answer,” Sasuke says, reaching his hand out and cradling Shikamaru’s cheek before his thumb wipes away a stray tear track its way down his face. “Do you want to stay here?”

“Yes,” Shikamaru whispers. “Please.”

“You’ll be okay. We’ll keep you safe,” Sasuke says.

His image melts away in a whisper of black feathers. The ice of the lake creeps up his legs, up his waist and back, locking him in place with each inch of his body it claims. He knows he should panic, should fight it, but he wants to stay here, he’s asked to stay here, locked away and safe. For just a little while, he has the chance to find some peace. The fear melts away as the ice reaches his neck.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom…_

The last thing he sees before the ice covers his eyes is the black pine tree on the shore, standing tall against the crimson sky and a wisp-like figure made of mist.

_Boom-boom…boom-boom…boom…boom…bo…om…_

-.-

_“What do you think life will be like after?”_

_Shikamaru looks over at Neji where they lay side by side on the roof of the Nara compound near the edge of the forest. He’s grateful the man is looking up at the sky and clouds as the sun begins to set so he can’t see the look of shock Shikamaru knows his face is making. “After…the war?”_

_“Yeah,” Neji says._

_“I…” It’s not what he expected to hear Neji say. It’s not as though Neji was suicidal, but thinking ahead about life after the looming conflict hadn’t been much of a factor. Whenever Shikamaru brought it up, Neji brushed him off, saying it would depend on what freedoms he would be allowed to have. To hear him ask now…it almost makes him giddy. “I want us to move in together, for real. I want to…I want life to be good. Simple.”_

_Neji laughs, turning on his side and curling his arm beneath his head. “You know, a few years back I might have been upset with you. Longing for peace, just so you can laze about and look at the clouds.”_

_“What’s stopping you from being upset now?” Shikamaru asks._

_His question makes Neji frown. “Because I know that’s not true anymore. That’s not why you want things to be simple, not really.”_

_“You’re giving me far too much credit,” Shikamaru says._

_“Am I?”_

_His heart beats a little faster as Neji moves, straddling Shikamaru’s waist in one smooth motion before leaning over him, his hair cascading like a curtain and blocking out the fading light of day in the process. Shikamaru’s eyes slide shut as Neji’s lips touch his and he inhales, sharp, before kissing him back. But Neji doesn’t let it get too far out of hand, pulling back and smiling down at him as he cups Shikamaru’s cheek with one of his hands and rubs his thumb along Shikamaru’s cheek._

_“You care too much about everyone. You want peace so that people won’t have a reason to hurt anymore.” Neji shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. His hairbrushes Shikamaru’s cheek and neck and makes his skin break out in goosebumps at the fleeting sensation. “You may fool other people, but I see you.”_

_“I see you too,” Shikamaru says, his voice feeling rough and strained. “I’ve always seen you.”_

_“I know,” Neji says. “It’s what made it so easy to…to talk to you. To be myself. You have given me the greatest gift in the world, Shikamaru. I want you to know that.”_

_“Why are you talking like this?” Shikamaru asks, heart beating faster with a looming feeling of dread. It sits hard and heavy in his chest. “What happened to thinking about the future?”_

_“I want us to both see the future you long for,” Neji says._

_It’s not an answer. He presses his lips to Shikamaru’s and it’s distracting, pulling Shikamaru away from the need he feels to keep asking questions. He twists his hands in Neji’s hair and loses himself in their kisses. He’ll ask later._

_-.-_

_“Do you know the hardest part about this job, Shikamaru?”_

_Shikamaru looks up from where he’s finishing cleaning up the map and strategy pieces from the war meeting. Shikaku’s still sitting in his chair, one ankle braced on his thigh, hands behind his head as he leans back, a posture Shikamaru himself finds him in all too often. Like father like son and all that._

_“No, not really,” Shikamaru says. “I mean…it’s all hard. Knowing people are depending on you, that they’ll die if you mess it up. That’s hard.”_

_“And you don’t think that’s the hardest part?” Shikaku asks, opening his eyes and relaxing his position as he turns his chair to face Shikamaru. He leans forward on the table, fixing Shikamaru with that stare that Shikamaru hates, the one that makes him feel like he’s as strong and transparent as thin ice on a warm spring afternoon._

_“That’s just the main function of the job, isn’t it? Caring about people, worrying about them, making the hard choices anyways. I imagine there’s something harder than that,” Shikamaru asks._

_Shikaku shakes his head. “There’s not. It’s caring. Caring is the hardest part of the job. Caring in our world is pain. You must know that and understand it as a tactician and spy master, but we must be the ones to bear that burden. We must be the ones strong enough to bear the weight of losing people we care about without flinching away, without recoiling. We have to look that despair and sadness in the eye and never let it harden us. Do you know why?”_

_Shikamaru shakes his head. It’s the most he’s ever heard his father speak._

_“The moment you look away is the moment you have failed. The moment you refuse to bear the burden of that grief is the moment you can no longer do your job. Without caring about each person you control, you render yourself incapable of compensating for their weaknesses. You cannot protect them if you don’t care.”_

_“How do you carry that?” Shikamaru asks. “How do I…losing Asuma was the hardest thing I’ve done.”_

_“There will be harder losses,” Shikaku says. “And you must not flinch. You must not run away from that grief, do you understand me?”_

_-.-_

Shikamaru wakes up in degrees. Awareness of a few moments of conversation, a response, and then he slips away again. Over time, the stretches of lucidity become longer. A few moments become a few minutes, and then a little longer, and finally, one morning, he wakes up and feels the last of the cobwebs slip away. He’s not in his own bed, but it’s not a hospital bed either so he supposes that’s a good sign. He lets out a long breath and pushes himself up into a sitting position.

The room he’s in is small and lacking in furniture. There’s the bed he’s lying in and then a small wooden chair near the door, but that’s it. Currently, Sasuke is sitting in the chair. He’s dressed in plain clothes, simple black lounge pants and a matching tank top, head leaned back against the wall as he seems to doze. Shikamaru can tell from his breathing that he isn’t. More likely, he’s just giving Shikamaru a chance to get his bearings now that he’s awake. It’s a kindness that Shikamaru is beginning to realize has been there all along, Sasuke just hasn’t given him or really anyone else the privilege of seeing it. Likely, only the original team seven has been privy to such small acts.

“Where am I?” he asks.

“The Uchiha Estate,” Sasuke says, not opening his eyes. “Kakashi has you on official medical leave. Only Genma and Ibiki know why.”

“The Orange Islands?”

“Sorted. No one died, the King and Kinzo are in jail, and a team was assigned to root out the last of the human trafficking network,” Sasuke says. He opens his eyes then, getting to his feet and lifting his arm above his head in a casual stretch before turning his gaze on Shikamaru. “You functioned well. You were a little cold, but it didn’t really bother anyone.”

“Aoba?”

Sasuke’s expression does something odd then, mouth almost twisting into a frown but not quite making it. “He’s okay. Removed from active duty temporarily.”

Shikamaru waits a moment, but Sasuke doesn’t elaborate. “It seems like you have more you want to say.”

“It’s just my opinion.”

“I’m not asking for an official report, I’m on medical leave,” Shikamaru says, unable to help the slight mocking drawl that enters his voice.

Sasuke raises an eyebrow. “Fair enough. I don’t think he should be left on ANBU. I don’t think he can handle it. At all.”

“He never should’ve made it on ANBU in the first place, we just don’t have enough bodies,” Shikamaru says.

“I know,” Sasuke says.

Shikamaru lets out a sigh and relaxes back onto the bed. It’s hard to keep looking Sasuke in the eyes. “Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome,” Sasuke says. “But it wasn’t that hard you know. The place you have set up…it’s pretty complete. I just manipulated what was already there and let you do the rest of the work. It…”

It’s the first time Shikamaru’s ever heard Sasuke stumble over his words as if he’s uncertain. He waits for Sasuke to continue or stop. He doesn’t want to push him and break the odd fragile friendship they have seemed to finally find together.

“It was nice,” Sasuke says, voice quiet. “It was nice to create something in that space where someone was helped and not…whatever. Ibiki said he wanted to talk to you when you woke up lucid. I’ll let him know you’re awake.”

Shikamaru listens to Sasuke leave. He remembers thinking that it must have been easier to be himself in a space he could control, but he hadn’t considered that using the Mangekyo Sharingan for something good could have had a profound impact on rewiring his internal sense of what such power could be used for. It’s an odd side benefit to the whole ordeal. Despite everything, despite his own bitterness about the war and everything it entailed, he thinks Sasuke is entitled to some level of peace.

He turns on his side to face the bedroom window, looking out at the forest on the edge of the compound. It’s odd, but he feels…rested. It’s as if spending a few weeks not having to hold back the tide of his own mental state has given him energy. His hands aren’t trembling, and he doesn’t feel the frantic fear that he’s moments away from shattering. If he sits and really thinks about it, he doesn’t exactly feel good either. Probing around his own mind, he can feel himself skittering away from thoughts of Neji but then, the fact that thinking of his name doesn’t make him recoil must be an improvement.

There’s a knock on the door and it slides open before Shikamaru can say anything. He sits back up as Ibiki steps inside, folding his arms across his chest as he looks Shikamaru over with an assessing gaze.

“You look better,” he says.

“I feel better,” Shikamaru says. “Sasuke tells me you’ve been filled in on the situation?”

Ibiki nods. “I’m impressed you managed to create such an elaborate place for yourself without any training. I suppose it isn’t exactly a shock though. You’ve always been smart, and there’s only so many ways a person can try and grapple with the reality of war.”

“I appreciate it, but I’m assuming you aren’t here to talk up my ego,” Shikamaru says.

“No,” Ibiki says. He moves and grabs the chair, dragging it closer to Shikamaru’s bedside before taking a seat. “The Hokage has appointed me to your position while you’re on medical leave. I am assuming you have information stored in that head of yours that isn’t written down anywhere I’ll be able to read it. I need you to update me.”

Shikamaru nods. “Right. I can do that. What do you need to know?”

Ibiki spends the next two hours grilling him on different secret missions and projects he’d been in the middle of and now that he knows what to look for, Shikamaru can see the pauses as Ibiki quite literally stores the information away to recall later. He can’t help but wonder how much more effective of a leader he could be if he learned such a skill properly. But that will come later. He knows Kakashi isn’t going to let him anywhere near active duty until he feels like Shikamaru’s come to grips with his situation.

By the time they’ve gone over every last detail, Shikamaru feels exhausted. His hands aren’t exactly trembling, but he has a feeling if they keep going it’ll get to that point. Ibiki eases up before he has to ask though. Whether it’s because he can tell or because he’s simply out of questions to ask Shikamaru doesn’t know, nor does he really want to. He feels weak enough as it is.

“I’m sorry that I’ve let you down,” Shikamaru says as Ibiki moves the chair back to its corner. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Ibiki says. “We will do what we must. Everyone needs a break, even people like us.”

Shikamaru hesitates a moment, words from his father rising up to the surface of his memory. “You know, my old man always said you were the last person he wanted in charge of shit like this.”

Ibiki pauses, hand on the door handle. “Oh? And why is that?”

“He said you didn’t have enough of a heart,” Shikamaru says, hating how flat his own voice sounds.

“Well if someone hadn’t decided to lock his away, I wouldn’t be the one in charge, now would I?”

“You got me there.”

“Get better, Shikamaru.” Ibiki opens the door only to stop again in the doorway. Silence stretches too long between them and Shikamaru feels something like curiosity stir in his chest. “Your father was right about people like me. There’s a reason he wanted to leave this job to you instead.”

The door slides shut and Shikamaru lays back down, curling up on his side to look out the window once more.

-.-

Kakashi comes by a few hours later dressed in his civilian clothes. Shikamaru has a feeling it’s intentional, a subtle way to inform him that from here on, as he promised, he would be helping Shikamaru as a friend and not as a matter of security. It means more to Shikamaru than he knows how to articulate, so he doesn’t try. Instead, he pulls himself out of bed and sits at the edge as Kakashi grabs the chair just the way Ibiki had and drags it to sit in front of him.

For a moment, neither of them say anything, only assessing each other with careful gazes. It feels different now. It’s like the whole ordeal, the last week or so cocooned in his own mind knowing that Kakashi would take care of him and everyone around him, had shifted something in his core. The fight he had felt, the desire to resist the help Kakashi offered, is nowhere to be found. Perhaps he hadn’t been cognizant or aware in that time he was under Sasuke’s jutsu, but it’s clear to him now that at least some part of him, the instinctual part, had known what happened and trusted Kakashi.

The air feels tense as Kakashi reaches a hand up and with no fanfare at all, slips his mask down and then removes his head band as well. Shikamaru knows he doesn’t need to be clever to know what it means. Kakashi’s face isn’t a national security secret, it’s a personal one, the kind someone holds close to their chest because to expose it is to make one vulnerable. Those types of secrets Shikamaru knows well. It’s apparent then that Kakashi is offering him this now as a way to level the playing field after the total and complete submission Shikamaru had offered up to him.

It feels only natural to slide off the bed and kneel at Kakashi’s feet in response.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” Kakashi says. “I just wanted to check up on you.”

“I don’t want to do anything I just…” Shikamaru shakes his head, keeping his gaze down on the floor as he rests his hands, palm down, on his own thighs. “It just feels better to be down here.”

“Okay. That’s just fine.” Kakashi reaches a hand out, pushing his fingers through Shikamaru’s hair and then letting his fingers trail down the line of Shikamaru’s throat before pulling away. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, I think,” Shikamaru says. “Not bad, but not good either. It doesn’t feel like I’m shoving things away either, it’s just…neutral.”

“You seem calm,” Kakashi says. “Not that I think many people picked up on the fact that you weren’t, but I think for me and a few others, we always noticed there was something bothering you underneath your cool exterior.”

There’s shame then, cold and sharp in his gut, the words filling him with a sick feeling of dread.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Nothing to apologize for. No one expects or wants you to be entirely unemotional,” Kakashi says. “So whatever internal monologue you’re running through your head right now about how you should be ashamed or feel guilty for being human, you can throw it away. I’m not interested in entertaining it.”

Shikamaru can’t help a small laugh at that, shifting forward to press his forehead into Kakashi’s knee. Kakashi’s hand curls around the back of his neck, squeezing. For another few moments, they stay like that, and Shikamaru lets his eyes slide shut as he sits there, reveling in the feeling of being seen and touched in such a simple way. It’s been far too long.

“I remembered a conversation I had with my father,” Shikamaru says. “He said the moment I refuse to bear the burden of grief is the moment I’ve failed my job.”

“This isn’t just about your job though,” Kakashi says. “Refusing your grief harms you too, and that’s what I’m concerned about here.”

“That’s probably not the smartest move for the Hokage.”

“I’m not here as the Hokage.”

And Shikamaru knows that. He’s known that since Kakashi stepped into the room. Still, he feels his duty like a chain around his neck, and the knowledge that he must improve his mental state doesn’t even feel like something he should do for his own benefit, but rather for the benefit of those around him. Perhaps that was part of the whole problem.

“There’s a distance I think,” Shikamaru says, his thoughts only half formed.

Kakashi’s thumb rubs along the base of his skull. “Distance in what?”

“In trying time fix myself so I can do my job properly,” Shikamaru says. “It feels doable that way.”

“And fixing yourself for your own well-being doesn’t?”

Shikamaru shakes his head, the motion all but grinding his head against Kakashi’s knee. “It’s not something I feel I deserve for myself, but other people deserve me at my best, so I want to do better for them. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“It does,” Kakashi says. “I disagree with Sasuke when he says it, and I disagree with you too, but that doesn’t mean I can’t follow your logic. Self-loathing isn’t easy to unlearn.”

“Have you?” Shikamaru asks. He pulls back so he can look Kakashi in the eyes. “Unlearned it, I mean?”

The nonchalance of Kakashi’s shrug surprises him. “Some days, yes. Some days…no. I don’t think anyone ever unlearns something like that entirely, but maybe I’m bitter in my old age.”

“You’re not that old,” Shikamaru says.

Kakashi’s lips twist into something like a smile, affection clear in his gaze, and the combination of the two hits Shikamaru hard. It makes him feel…something. “I appreciate the compliment, however untrue it may be.” His hand drops from Shikamaru’s neck. “There is one last thing I want to be clear with you about though before we continue.”

“I’m listening.”

“I am going to do what I can to help you, but I am not all knowing. I do not have the cure for the pain you’re in, and I don’t even know how to handle my own grief and sadness some days. All I can do is give you space to try and figure it out safely,” Kakashi says. “Do you understand what I mean by this?”

Shikamaru I nods. “I do.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re smart enough to figure things out on your own just fine, you just need to know you’re safe enough to do so,” Kakashi says. “Does that feel like an accurate assessment to you?”

“It’s…” Shikamaru takes a breath, trying to steady himself. “When Asuma died, I couldn’t handle it and I just shut down. It was my father who…it’s not like what we do, and I know you’re not him, that’s not what I’m saying, I’m just-“

“I know, it’s okay. Take a deep breath and try again,” Kakashi says.

Shikamaru nods and then after a moment, shifts closer to him, bowing his head once more and pressing it to Kakashi’s knee, using the warmth of it to remind himself of where he is. He takes a few deep breaths, and then another as Kakashi squeezes the back of his neck. “My father gave me a space to be upset too. He gave me permission.”

“Is that what you need from me?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple, not anymore,” Shikamaru says. “Back then I still saw my father as someone undefeatable but it’s not like that now, I don’t have…there’s no one I view that way. But still…I think you have the right idea. That’s what it’s felt like when we’ve done it before. It feels like my thoughts slow down long enough for me to get past them when you’re in control.”

“I can work with that,” Kakashi says. “Let’s set some ground rules then, yes?”

Shikamaru nods, keeping his eyes shut and leaning more heavily into him. “Yes. Thank you.”

“When we do this, you listen to my orders. You will try and tell me what it is that you need to have access to that space within yourself and I’ll adapt to help you reach it. If you want to stop for whatever reason, you’ll say Red. If I check in and you’re okay, you’ll say Green. You can always refuse and order but I am always going to ask you why and I strongly encourage you to share the reason with me. I will not require it,” Kakashi says. “Do these rules work for you?”

Shikamaru doesn’t answer right away, instead mulling them over. He can’t see any flaws in them, but… “What if I don’t know what it is I need to try and reach that space?”

“That’s fine, we’ll just figure it out together,” Kakashi says. “We figured it out just fine last time, didn’t we?”

And well…Shikamaru couldn’t really argue with that. “And what about after? If there is an after.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if I get better and figure out how to deal with all the shit I’ve been shoving aside for the last few years…what then? Does this stop?”

“It doesn’t have to,” Kakashi says. “We stop when you want to, or in the unlikely event I find myself incapable of continuing.”

“But what do you get out of it?” Shikamaru asks. “I get with Sasuke it’s about…it’s about the two of you redoing things and having the relationship you always wanted to have with each other but more…”

“Kinky?”

“I guess. It’s not sexual though,” Shikamaru says. He sits back up, finding it easier to look Kakashi in the eye when the focus isn’t solely on his own mental state.

“Kink isn’t necessarily sexual. What you and I have engaged in and will engage in qualifies as kink,” Kakashi says. “We’re just using it differently, and in a much riskier fashion. It’s not about sex, or an adrenaline pay off. It’s about recreating spaces to make things that were once traumatizing safe again. That’s what Sasuke and I are doing. We can never be wholly what we once wanted to be together. But we can reimagine something better together.”

“But you aren’t doing that with me,” Shikamaru says. “I was never your student. You didn’t fail me, you don’t have any trauma with me to undo…so what do you gain?”

“Friendship isn’t transactional, Shikamaru.”

Shikamaru blinks, his mind tripping over the words. “But I…”

“That wasn’t an invitation to debate,” Kakashi says. “I’m helping you as a friend. I want things to get better for you, and I know I can help you with that. Is it that hard to believe that people hold you in that sort of regard?”

“I guess.”

“Maybe we can change that over time too.”

Shikamaru shrugs. “Maybe. So when do we start?”

“Not today,” Kakashi says. “You should go home and get familiar with your surroundings for a while, just in case there’s any unintended side effects from what Sasuke’s done. We can meet here this weekend, if that works for you. If we do them here-“

“No ANBU guards will step foot on the Uchiha compound, and Sasuke will be here so they have no justification for checking up on you even if they had the courage,” Shikamaru says. “Guaranteed privacy.”

“Maybe work on shutting off that brain of yours and not interrupting me next time, hm?”

Shikamaru feels heat rise to his cheeks when Kakashi raises an eyebrow at him. “Right. Of course.”

If it were anyone else, Shikamaru wouldn’t care. But Kakashi…Kakashi he doesn’t mind listening to. It is clear now that acting on his own judgement has done nothing but bury him in a deeper hole, and if he’s going to get out of it, he’s going to have to turn decisions over to Kakashi. Perhaps he’s still effected by Sasuke’s jutsu, but that idea doesn’t scare him nearly as much as it once did.

-.-

Shikamaru’s no artist, but he does have some basic skills. The first evening he arrives back at the Nara compound, he takes a sketchpad out to where he’s planted his father’s and Asuma’s trees, settling in against the trunk of Asuma’s oak sapling. He tries his best to recall in his mind’s eye the landscape of…really his sanctuary. It hadn’t felt like that originally, but now, after what Sasuke had done, it sort of feels like that’s the word that best fits for it.

At first, he sketches the horizon, the lake and the frozen landscape, the snowy peaks that rise beyond the lone black pine tree on the northern most shore. He knows what lies beneath the lake already. But as he finishes the first sketch, he can’t help but wonder if that’s all it is. Is it truly just one space for him to hold all his emotions, or does it function as a true method of loci is meant to the way Genma and Ibiki had described? He turns the page and begins sketching again, this time from a bird’s eye view like a map.

To the south…to the south there’s a forest. He marks small x’s for the trees and when the instinct strikes him, he places other shapes though he can’t really think of what they are or what they hold. The sun is low by the time he finishes, the shadows of the compound nearly reaching where he sits. He stares down at the map and sets his drawing charcoal aside, eyes tracing small paths through the trees that he only just now notices as he examines it in its whole. Is he hiding something or is it just…secrets? The kind he needs for his job.

Perhaps it’s not the smartest thing in the world, but he takes a deep breath and lets it out, trying to imagine his sanctuary once more. Another breath…

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

The sketchbook slides out of his lap, hand falling down to rest in the dirt. He has a distant thought that perhaps it’s foolish to try and do this on his own, but then his eyes are opening and he’s sitting atop the icy lake once more. He gets to his feet, turning south towards the extensive forest. It’s odd that somehow it feels so familiar as he walks across the ice towards it. Then again, he supposes he did create it even if he didn’t do so in a conscious fashion the way others were meant to.

He steps onto solid ground and makes his way down the first path, following the map he’d drawn without even seeing it. After walking a ways, deep enough that he can no longer see the lake, he turns to the right and heads off the path, stepping instead into the thick underbrush and heading towards where he’d drawn a large circle. It doesn’t take him long to find what he had meant for it to represent. It’s a clearing and in the center…a chest. Just like the chest that sits at the bottom of the lake.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

For a moment, he considers forcing himself to wake up, but then…he’s not entirely sure how to do that. Without having much of a choice, he steps into the clearing and kneels in the dirt before the small but ornate chest, fingers tracing the intricate but seemingly random designs swirled into the top. He opens the clasps and lifts the lid, revealing the contents to be…a journal? It looks the one he keeps with the Nara shorthand. When he opens it, he finds it to be full of drawings with detailed shogi boards, countless strategies mapped out on each and every page, and no matter how many pages he flips through he finds himself never reaching the end.

Frowning, he peeks back inside the chest and finds yet another journal inside. He sets the shogi board journal aside and opens the new one, finding this one to be filled with herbs and plants and their various properties and detailed descriptions of ways they could be utilized in battle. As he reads, he finds that some of the descriptions are battles he himself was in. It’s straight forward enough, and he supposes it makes sense why he’d find these two journals so easy to access. It’s knowledge he accesses on a regular basis.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-_

His chest aches from the sudden uptick in his heartbeat and he gathers the journals, shoving them back into their proper place with shaking hands and shutting the lid. He lunges back up to his feet, nearly losing his balance. Instinct takes over then, drawing him back to the path he’d abandoned earlier. A steadying breath helps with the pain in his chest and he continues deeper into the forest, trusting that his mind will do what it must to survive. That’s what it’s been doing this this whole time after all.

The paths twist together and he tries to keep track even through his mounting fear of where he is on the map. He should be reaching the edge now. No sooner does the thought cross his mind does he find himself standing before a cliff’s edge, the line of it a sheer ninety-degree angle rising hundreds of feet above him. In the rock face there’s an iron door, a combination lock holding a chain that’s looped through the door handles keeping it firmly shut. For a moment, he hesitates. But that’s the issue. In this place, he can’t _think_ about things, he just has to let himself move.

He steps forward, ignoring the way his heart lurches in his chest, and grabs the lock, twisting the combinations at the front in a quick series of numbers, _039267,_ and then it clicks open. With a rough tug, he pulls the chain free and yanks the doors open revealing a cavern lit with torches along the walls. In between the torches, directly in the walls of the rockface, are countless small metal drawers, like a line of miniature filing cabinets stretching back through a winding tunnel as far as he can see. 

_Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-_

His chest aches as he steps inside, opening the first drawer and pulling out the file inside. Ino Yamanaka. Her powers are listed, her strengths, her weaknesses, the ways she’s nearly died in battle, and finally at the bottom, the most likely cause of death in battle. His stomach churns and he shoves the file back in its place, slamming the drawer shut and then opening the next one.

Choji Akimichi. His powers, his strengths, his weaknesses, the ways he’s nearly died in battle, and at the bottom, the most likely cause of death in battle. He goes down the line. Temari. Kankuro. Kiba. Shino. Hinata. Naruto. Sakura. Kakashi. He travels deeper into the cavern, a sick feeling of dread crawling through him as he goes. He doesn’t have to go very far for the files to start changing. Countless names of shinobi with their day of death and at the very bottom of each one, ways it could have been avoided.

_Boom-boom-boom-boom-_

He shoves one of the drawers shut and walks faster through the tunnel, already knowing what he’s going to find at the end but heading for it anyways. That’s the whole point, right? Facing what it is he’s so fucking afraid of, what he knows is true.

As he suspected, at the end of the tunnel there’s just one drawer in the back wall. It’s locked with a combination lock as well, _030700_ , and when he opens the drawer and pulls out the file, he’s greeted with a picture of Neji.

_Neji Hyuuga. Day of Death July 29 th. Could have been avoided: if someone cared_

“Fuck you,” he says, closing the file. He reopens it, but the same words stare up at him. “I fucking cared, fuck you.” He closes it again and reopens it, but the words don’t change. He remembers the day he’d made the decision to send Neji with his father to protect him, unable to shake the fear that something might happen to him and thinking the one person he trusted more than anyone at the time to keep his father safe was Neji. And he’d lost them both instead.

Did that mean he didn’t care for Neji? Because he cared for his father more? Is that even something he can calculate out and measure?

_Boom-boom-boom-boom-_

“Shikamaru?”

The file falls from his fingers and he jerks awake, gasping for air. It’s Ino staring down at him, a frown on her lips as she pulls her hand away from his forehead. He straightens up, leaning away from the tree as his hand goes to his chest above his heart, but the pain that had been there before is long gone.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I was dropping some flowers off to your mother, and she said you were back here drawing,” Ino says. She crouches in the flowers beside him, grapping the sketchbook. “What is this?”

“Ino…”

She looks up at him, eyes widening as she takes him in. “What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

“I…can you just…”

He wipes at his eyes and she tosses the sketchbook behind her without a moment of hesitation as she pulls him close, wrapping her arms tight around him as he begins to cry in earnest. It’s not…grief. He doesn’t know what it is. Anger perhaps? At himself, that in his own sanctuary of his inner most thoughts, that such a lie would have burrowed itself so deep that it became the truth. Is it true though? How many nights did he agonize over the decision of sending Neji off with his father to help protect him? His care for his father had led to him make the worst decision of his life.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay Shikamaru…” Ino whispers the words against his head, kissing his temple as she rubs her hand up and down his back. “Bad dream, huh?”

“I…t-that’s one word for it,” he says. “I…do you think he’d still be alive if I didn’t send him to protect my father?”

“That’s not a question worth asking or answering,” Ino says, her voice firm as she tightens her grip on him. “Shikamaru, they’re lucky they even found his body after the building was destroyed. Where is this coming from?”

“I’m just finally thinking about things I’ve tried not to think about,” he says. He closes his eyes and leans a little more into her. “Thanks.”

“It’s not a problem,” she says. “Do you want me to help you inside?”

He nods. “Yeah…yeah, I would.”

-.-

Meeting up with Kakashi again is a relief, if only so he can have someone to air his thoughts out with other than himself. As much as he cares for Ino and Choji, picking at the wound Neji left behind and worse, picking apart the mess of his own mind, isn’t something he wants to do with them. They’re all friends, and they’re amazing allies, but that’s because of how different they are. For this…he needs someone who has experienced similar things. And Kakashi does. He’s known that since the moment he ran into him at the memorial that he understood more than anyone the guilt he carries.

“So this is it?” Kakashi asks, eyes studying the map.

They’re in a better furnished room of the Uchiha compound this time but in their usual positions with Kakashi in a comfortable lounge chair and Shikamaru kneeling between his legs on a rather plush cushion. It’s become easy in a way. The awkward air from the first few times is long gone. The map sits in Kakashi’s lap, a finger tracing one of the paths.

“Yeah. I don’t know if it’s because of Sasuke’s jutsu, but I was able to access it on my own after I drew the map and I went exploring,” Shikamaru says, fighting to keep his tone steady.

“Oh? And what did you find?” Kakashi holds a hand up to stop him before he can answer. “Don’t tell me where. This is your place, and I don’t ever want to have the knowledge of where things are stored. All I need to know is what’s beneath that lake. But I would like to know what all you have stored away in as general of terms as possible, or if you think there’s something specific I should know.”

“Some of it is pretty mundane. Tactics, poisons, herbs, things like that,” Shikamaru says. “But I also had files on everyone I’ve ever known, or fought, or had under my command and it was like…” He has to stop then and take a few breaths, head tipping back to look at the ceiling as he tries to get himself under control.

“Here, give me your hands.”

Shikamaru obeys without hesitation. While his hands have not gone back to shaking since they returned from the Orange Islands, the relief he feels having them cradled between Kakashi’s is immeasurable.

“Okay, start again,” Kakashi says.

“Every single file I had on the people I know that are still alive had a list of probable ways they would die based on their physical weaknesses and skills,” Shikamaru says. He shifts, turning his gaze back down towards their hands. It helps, somehow. “And for those that did die, I had a reason listed of how they could have been saved.”

“That seems like a sensible thing for someone in your position to have,” Kakashi says. “As we’ve discussed, it’s important to consider one’s emotional capabilities as well, but I am troubled to hear that you have dedicated so much space to retaining information on how you could’ve kept people alive. There’s really no way of knowing that. You’re bright, but you’re not that bright.”

“It’s subjective, I know it is,” Shikamaru says. “Especially for people I…people I was close to.”

“And did you find the file for…”

“Yes,” Shikamaru says, but it’s hard to speak, the word only coming out as a whisper. “I found Neji’s and it…” Shikamaru can see it in his mind’s eye, his own chicken scratch. “It said he could have been saved if someone cared.”

“Focus on your heartbeat for me, Shikamaru. I want you to go back to that space and find his file.”

Shikamaru shakes his head, even though the simple command already has his heartbeat roaring to the forefront of his mind. “I don’t…I don’t want to.”

“Do you need to stop?”

He pulls his hands away, or tries to, but Kakashi only tightens his grip. “I-“

_Boom-boom, boom-boom-_

“What’s your color?”

“Green,” Shikamaru says, all but gasping it out even as his eyes squeeze shut and he tugs back on Kakashi’s grip. “I’m…”

“What? What are you feeling?”

“I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared. I’m right here though, so I want you to take a deep breath and focus on your heartbeat.”

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

Shikamaru opens his eyes and once more finds himself sitting on the center of the frozen lake. He stands, but then hesitates, uncertain. “Where do I go?”

“His file. I want you to go find it again,” Kakashi says, his voice still clear even in this space.

Shikamaru swallows and forces his legs to move, letting his feet carry him along the path he had walked just a few nights ago, deep into the trees along winding paths. Unlike before though, his chest doesn’t hurt and he can hear his heartbeat as steady as ever, rhythmic and firm. Perhaps on his own, it’s harder to maintain the space. The tree line breaks and he finds himself standing before the locked door once more, chain and combination lock still in place as if he’d never been there.

“Where are you now?”

“Almost there. There’s a locked door I have to get through,” Shikamaru says.

He steps forward and undoes the lock again, noting that it’s different from before but that his fingers still seem to know the combination anyways. Perhaps it’s something that changes every time. It would be one way to keep himself safe even under the threat of torture, and while that’s not why he had created this space for himself, he can certainly see how it could be repurposed. With some effort, he’s sure he could change the lock from being something he could open with anything to something he could never open at all. The thought chills him.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

“Stop, take a breath, you’re just fine,” Kakashi says.

Shikamaru obeys, inhaling once deeply before releasing the breath and then pulling the lock and chain free before opening the door once more. He skips the other drawers, walking past them all without a second glance. There’s only one thing that’s important here, and as much as he doesn’t wish to do so, he knows that he needs to see the file once more. He undoes the lock on Neji’s drawer. The combination hasn’t changed. He pulls the file out and opens it once more.

“Neji Hyuuga. Date of Death July 29th. Could have been avoided: if someone cared,” Shikamaru says, more for Kakashi’s benefit than his.

“Is that true? Did no one care?”

**_“Do you know the hardest part about this job, Shikamaru?”_ **

“No, it’s not true,” Shikamaru says. His hands shake, the papers inside trembling in his grasp. “It’s not true but the words won’t change. It’s not true but I…it’s not true!”

“But it would be easier if it were, wouldn’t it?” Kakashi asks.

**_“Caring in our world is pain.”_ **

“Yes!”

Tears wet the pages, the ink of his handwriting smudging and slipping down the page, erasing the mechanical details of Neji’s abilities and skills, running the ink into nothing. What do such details matter now? Who cares about his weak points, his ability to repel things, his mental and physical fortitude to bounce back from the most serious of injuries through sheer will alone? What did that matter when he was dead , his life thrown carelessly away because Shikamaru wanted to think his father was safe?

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

None of it mattered, did it? None of the details on these pages mattered at all. All that matters is the memories he’s carried of Neji and the love they had for each other, the dreams they’d shared even knowing they could be ripped away from them both in a moment.

He tries to throw the papers away, but there are hands wrapped too tight around his and he can’t move them no matter how hard he tries.

**_“You must not run away from that grief.”_ **

“Please…” The word passes his lips like he’s begging, and he supposes he is.

“Did you care about him, Shikamaru?” Kakashi asks.

“Yes. I cared.”

The file melts in his hands, turning to water and slipping through his fingers to splash on the rock at his feet. He feels defeated, splayed open and laid bare for anyone to see. But it’s not just anyone, is it?

Before he can speak, a loud crack echoes through the air and into the tunnel, so loud his ears ring. He turns and runs, flying out of the tunnel and sprinting through the forest because he knows, instinctively, the way he knows everything in this place, where he needs to be next. When he reaches the shoreline, the thick ice above the lake has cracked, thick slabs of it floating and bumping into one another. What’s different is…

“Neji?”

On the shoreline opposite of him beside the black pine tree, there’s a ghostly figure that he can’t quite make out, but then maybe he’s not supposed to. He steps out on the ice, testing the blocks as he steps from each one to the next. Keeping his balance is near impossible.

“Where are you?” Kakashi asks.

“The lake. Someone’s on the far side, I just can’t see who. I’m trying to get across,” he says, his voice a mumble. The ice cracks and pops, splintering as its pieces drift away from each other.

“Why can’t you just walk across?”

“The ice is breaking.”

“Shikamaru. Get into the water.”

“Are you crazy?” Shikamaru stops, gaze still focused on the ghostly figure on the other side. “I need to get across.”

“No you don’t, you and I both know that’s not what you’re here for,” Kakashi says. “Get in the water, Shikamaru, and find that chest.”

It takes everything in him to take his eyes off the ghostly visage on the far shore and step back off the ice he’s on. He plunges straight into the water and for a moment, he lets himself sink. There’s enough within him that’s still calm to be surprised at how the water isn’t cold at all, but he shoves the observation aside in favor of swimming deeper. The jewelry chest is clearly visible from the sunlight that filters down from the broken ice above and he swims straight for it.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

He shifts his body, landing at the lake bottom as if landing from a long jump, feet sticking in the mud. With great care, he reaches down and grabs the jewelry chest, trying to tug it out of its muddy confines. It doesn’t give. Not even an inch.

 _Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom_ -

 _Okay, I get it,_ he thinks, looking up at the shattered and splintered ice above him. _I’m not running away anymore. I care. I know I do. I love him and I’m always going to love him, and I’m fucking terrified of grieving for him._

“You have friends. We’ll help you.” Kakashi’s voice is clear even here, at the bottom of such a deep lake.

Shikamaru steels himself and reaches down again. This time when he pulls, the mud lets it go and he holds it tight to his side before jumping up and swimming with one arm up towards the surface once more. When he breaks free of water’s surface, the ice is almost entirely gone. It makes it easy to swim towards the shore. He hauls himself up onto dry land near the black pine tree and straightens up, dripping from head to toe.

Not three feet away from him stands the figure. This close he can see it’s definitely Neji, but only an outline of him drawn in shimmering mist that twirls in on itself and vanishes into the air. He holds the chest out to it, but it only steps away. When he tries to step closer, the figure shakes its head, so Shikamaru stays where he is.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Shikamaru says. “Do you want an apology?”

It shakes its head again but retreats towards the tree. So…he should keep talking. Right.

“I’m sorry anyways. I’m sorry I made the decision I did because I was scared of my father dying. All I did was make sure you both died,” Shikamaru says. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care. I did.”

As he speaks, the figure continues to retreat until it reaches the tree. It stands there as if waiting for him to continue.

“I loved you more than anyone. You said I gave you the greatest gift in the world, but I swear, you’re the one who gave it to me. It wasn’t for long, but I got to love you. I wouldn’t trade that,” he says, and none of it’s a lie. The words leave him as easy as breathing. Words he’s felt for so long but never let himself think or experience for fear that it would leave him broken after.

_Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-_

The figure melts back into the tree, the misty vapors twisting through the tree and its branches and Shikamaru watches with fascination as the wood begins to glow and splinter before finally, it shatters just as the ice did. It cracks once, loud, straight down the middle, and then smaller lines splinter off it. With one resounding crash, it falls apart, a towering pine crumpling down like nothing more than ash. It hits him then that he’s still clinging to the jewelry chest.

He shifts it in his grasp, undoing the front latch and pushing the top open. “Oh. I see. One last gift, huh? This is what you wanted…”

In the chest, nestled in soft lavender velvet, lies a single seed. A seed meant for a black pine tree. He pulls the seed out and drops the box on the ground, uncaring of the way it splinters and shatters on impact. He doesn’t need it.

“Do you have what you need?” Kakashi asks.

“Yeah. Yeah I do.”

Shikamaru takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, and when he reopens them, he’s kneeling between Kakashi’s legs once more and his cheeks are wet with tears. Kakashi pulls a cloth from his pocket and Shikamaru keeps his own hands clasped together even as he lets them fall back in his lap. With a careful hand, Kakashi wipes his cheeks. It’s…nice. It doesn’t carry with it the usual shame.

“Consider me impressed by your ability to overachieve,” Kakashi says. He smiles when Shikamaru looks up at him. “It seems once you understood how your space worked, you could take what you needed and reshape it to be what you wanted.”

“Do you want to know what happened?” Shikamaru asks.

Kakashi shakes his head. “After I told you that we were there for you, you went silent. Whatever happened after that, I don’t need to know unless you wish to share it with me.”

It’s…it’s not more respect than Shikamaru expected. Kakashi has, after all, been nothing but respectful from the start. There’s no reason for him to expect something else now. Still, it means a lot to have his mental space given such deference. Kakashi finishes wiping his face and pockets the cloth once more.

“Thank you,” Shikamaru says. “That feels…really understated. But thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Kakashi says. “Can I leave you alone for a moment? I want to get us both something to drink.”

Shikamaru nods. “I’ll be fine.”

Kakashi squeezes his shoulder and stands up before stepping around him and heading for the door. Once he’s gone, Shikamaru feels the last tension in his shoulders deflate. He pulls his hands apart, moving to stretch his arms above his head, but the sound of something clattering down against the wood boards stops him. Frowning, he leans over looks to see what had fallen.

“Huh…”

He reaches down and picks it up between his finger and thumb, lips twisting up in a small smile. A black pine seed. He’s never been one to believe in a higher power. Maybe it was Kakashi, a sleight of hand, a strategic guess at something that could help him. It’d be quite the gamble, but much of the way Kakashi fought could be categorized as a gamble, no matter how calculated he was about his decisions. And yet…

It didn’t really matter, did it? Kakashi, Neji, some divine power he didn’t care to know or name…there’s a space for a tree, beside Asuma’s, beside his father’s, and he supposes it’s about time for a new start.


End file.
